


The Fear of Cyan

by pickledbrows



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Dates, Blind Date, Established Relationship, M/M, Massage, Mystery, Piercings, Romance, Slow Burn, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-01-30 16:49:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12657522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickledbrows/pseuds/pickledbrows
Summary: He glanced up at the dismissive remark, not knowing if he should frown or be thankful. All night, he’d expected a painfully flirtatious fight with his date. He thought he’d have to fake smiles and listen to the usual begging for him to trust this stranger, to relax and sit back, to be spoiled and treated like he deserved to be. Whatever that meant. All those things and whatever other pleasantries that had been thrown at him over the last seven months, he was ready for them.But this was all unexpected. This was the other end of the awkward date spectrum.





	1. Teal

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have a lot of unfinished stories. That's kind of how I roll as I go in and out of motivation and stories. ANYWAY. I'm trying to do a thing where I put my soul into a story and literally...not care about who reads it or any numbers. No matter what, I have to finish this one. IT'S SEUNGCHUCHU. IT NEEDS TO BE DONE.
> 
> I'm trying to write Phichit a little...tougher. Because of his circumstances.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for clicking the link. If you read through, please kindly drop a kudos and comment. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

The restaurant Phichit saw on the map street view was a stone building in need of painting with windows that best suited a house. He knew there’d be a parking lot in the back, but it looked far bigger online and lacked the haphazardly parked cars that tonight’s customers mutually agreed upon. Like any other free-of-charge lot downtown, all available spaces were taken, even if that meant trapping a vehicle in place just so your rear bumper wasn’t hanging out on the sidewalk.

Phichit had done his research ahead of time and parked in the garage of the shopping mall across the street, a wise choice in the event he needed to leave earlier than expected from this date. He’d done it several times the last few encounters. It wasn’t anything new, or exciting.

He checked the map on his phone one last time, wanting to make sure that this was the right place. The name was correct, the intersecting streets of this corner restaurant were correct, yet the picture was far different from reality. The brick walls were painted a cool gray and the windows were tall, wide, and frosted. Soft music played outside the front doors, and two benches sat parallel on the walkway leading to the entrance.

Maybe the place had undergone renovation. Phichit hoped the parking lot would be next, for the sake of future patrons. Marked parking lines would be a start, as well as a defined exit and entrance.

He was thankful again that he’d studied the map earlier today since he was quite unfamiliar with downtown territory. It meant there was only one thing he needed to worry about right now, the cause of his wet palms and overactive heartbeat. Both symptoms could be directly related to the blind date with a mystery man that his best friend set him up with.

Yuuri had come over earlier this afternoon for the informal, bi-weekly massage session that Phichit treated him to at the cost of being a good friend and trying to find him a proper boyfriend. In the last seven months, Phichit had gone on more dates than desperate swiping on that infamous dating app could have set him up with, and Yuuri no longer suffered from achy joints and bad tension in his muscles. If anything, Yuuri benefited more from this arrangement, but Phichit kept up the good faith that someday, the line his friend cast would catch someone that didn’t make him feign a bad stomach as an excuse to leave a terrible date early.

He glanced at the time on his phone before tucking it back into his pocket. He was early, a sign of true nervousness. Phichit was never early for anything.

He took a seat on one of the benches and settled his hands on his lap, shooting a glance to the restaurant doors as one swung open and a young couple stepped out. His eyes lowered as they passed, and when he felt his phone vibrate he quickly pulled it out again and read the notification on the screen. It was a text from Yuuri, telling him that he really looked forward to hearing about the date.

Phichit didn’t know how to reply and sent back a simple text of ‘he better be as hot as the guy you’re with.’ It was mostly a joke to himself since he’d never seen anyone as hot as Viktor Nikiforov outside of Paris fashion shows and men’s magazines.

Yuuri sent him back a cute emoji that portrayed frustration and Phichit laughed at the response. He watched the corner text bubble and waited for Yuuri’s next message.

‘Viktor says he’s hot. Viktor never says anyone is hot.’

That was true, except for Viktor saying it about Yuuri, but that was a given considering those two had been dating for several years now. Phichit was still surprised that there wasn’t a ring yet since he was certain Viktor was going to propose at the end of the first year. They were taking it slow, or something. Good for them. Meanwhile, Phichit was rushing to take someone anywhere at this point.

The idea that he was about to have dinner with this friend of Viktor—who Viktor also thought was hot—jumpstarted the nerves again, and Phichit consciously commanded his legs to stop their anxious tap dance. He wiped his hands on his pants and gripped the material tightly, hoping the sweat on his palms would be soaked up. No such luck, not with this material.

He mentally cursed Yuuri for making him wear something he considered too fancy for a first date: a long-sleeve, button up with a pair of silky slacks that he’d only ever worn to a job interview. It had been the one job interview that led to an offer he eventually refused.

‘You’re gonna like him, I promise,’ came another text, followed by, ‘You removed your piercings, right?’

They’d argued about this earlier in the shop, that Phichit should’ve at least been allowed to wear a pair of studs since he’d already agreed to cover up his ink. If this supposedly handsome guy didn’t like him with all his metal, then he wasn’t worth the effort. Besides, a tiny hoop on the nose was cute, at least Yuuri had to agree on that. Except he hadn’t, and that had come out too.

Phichit sighed and replied back, ‘I’m wearing the black onyx pair you bought me last year for my birthday. It’s good luck.’

A grin cracked on his face as he watched the bubbled ellipse, waiting to see how Yuuri would reply.

“Phichit?”

His head shot up when he heard his name and his eyes widened in surprise at the well-dressed man standing before him. He’d never seen a suit look so good outside of foreign city fashion shows and that one men’s magazine with the letters. And Viktor. Viktor could wear a suit. And apparently, this man who knew his name could, too.

“Oh, wow,” Phichit breathed and pursed his lips immediately when he realized he’d said that aloud.

He felt underdressed. Did suit jackets really make that hourglass shape? How were a pair of pants so fitted without the awkward creases in places too tight? Were those cuff links? Why was that black tie so _black_? How did his hair swoop so perfectly without giving off that crinkly, old man hair gel look?

“Um. Hi.”

The man standing in front of him slid a hand out from one pocket and offered it to shake. Alarm bells went off in Phichit’s head and the moisture on his palms kicked into overdrive. Embarrassed, he took the hand and gave it a weak shake before pulling away. He just gave his date the dreaded dead fish.

“I’m Seung-gil. I apologize for my tardiness,” the man said firmly, like they were about to sit down in a conference room and not a restaurant that had gotten an upgrade.

“It’s all good! Your being late, I mean. You’re not even that late, really,” Phichit reassured him and tucked his phone away. His pants felt too tight and it was probably because they weren’t perfectly tailored the way Seung-gil’s were.

His date said nothing in reply and simply made his way to the entrance. Phichit got up from the bench and followed, peeking behind him to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind. He almost ran into Seung-gil who stood with one hand holding the door open.

“After you.”

“Thanks,” Phichit said with his usual smile curled on his lips.

Seung-gil followed him inside, immediately saying something to the hostess who had greeted them with a bow. He was using Korean, and in that moment, Phichit remembered that his date was Korean and this restaurant was Korean. Of course. They were in Koreatown. And he was about to eat one of his favorite things.

“I’m so excited,” he said under his breath as the scent of barbecue assaulted his nose.

“What was that?”

The hostess was about to lead them to their table, but stopped when Seung-gil paused and turned to look at Phichit. His face was as expressionless as it had been from the moment they’d met, but he was waiting, expecting a repeat. Phichit raised both hands up and waved them, as if shaking off his comment.

“It’s nothing! I just really like this kind of food and I haven’t had it in a while,” he said, feeling strange at admitting it.

“Yuuri told me,” Seung-gil said without pause and held an arm out toward their waiting hostess, motioning for Phichit to go first.

Phichit blinked in surprise and hurriedly followed along, wondering when his friend had shared that information. This date was a last-minute effort made by Yuuri to keep Phichit from moping about his single status until someone worthy of a date could be found. Yuuri had said he didn’t know Seung-gil at all, that Seung-gil was more of an acquaintance to Viktor, and it had been Viktor who’d set up the whole thing just this morning. Yuuri had been the one to tell Phichit when he’d dropped by the shop in the early afternoon, and after he’d gone limp from a massage, he helped Phichit plan out a “proper” outfit to wear for the date.

Phichit glanced around at each of the tables in the restaurant, long and wide and mostly consisting of a hot grill. The only barbecue place he’d been to was the one closer to home, a hole-in-the-wall sort of eatery that barely fit four tables. This restaurant was packed with guests, and he was reminded of the number of stars and positive reviews on Yelp. As he passed by a grill surrounded by a group of people and topped with slabs of various meats and vegetables, he could see why this was a popular spot.

“I feel overdressed,” he said with a shaky smile as he looked around. Why had Yuuri pulled out the button-up and slacks combo? Not pants. _Slacks_.

“Sorry, it’s me,” Seung-gil said and unbuttoned his suit jacket before sliding it off. He hung it on a peg on the wall before sliding into the opposite seat. Phichit stared at the lines in his neck that disappeared beneath his starched, white collar.

“I just got off work,” Seung-gil continued.

It was eight o’clock in the evening.

Phichit glanced around, hands resting on the table, then turned his attention back to Seung-gil. He smiled.

“Oh? You always end this late?” he queried, about to make a joke on being a workaholic.

“Yeah.”

The response was short and curt and brushed away any further comments.

Phichit cleared his throat and sat up, settling his forearms on the table and trying not to lean forward too much. It was a different pose meant to counter Seung-gil’s straightened back and folded hands. Phichit suddenly felt underdressed again, even if he and his date were wearing similar things. Minus the cufflinks. He took a few seconds to stare at the squares of quilted, black leather encased in polished silver.

“Do you dress like this every day?” he asked, curious and without further teasing.

“I have to.”

A waitress came by and lined up several, small dishes filled with a variety of light appetizers. She did it first for Phichit and then for Seung-gil, who turned to her afterwards and said something. She took out an electronic device from her apron pocket, probably for putting in orders, and clicked around on it before turning to Phichit.

“Do you want something to drink?” Seung-gil asked, and Phichit quickly glanced down at the menu in front of him.

“Water. For now.”

He rarely drank on dates. Not because he was a lightweight that would get sloshed after half a glass of beer, but because he’d learned that the drinks would keep coming and he’d end up let down by yet another guy who was trying to get him plastered. He’d never been a big drinker and a night out with a stranger was not when he was going to start experimenting with his tolerance.

The waitress tucked the device away and moved onto another table without another word. Phichit watched her go and then turned his attention back to the man sitting across from him. Seung-gil sat with that perfect posture of his, one hand on the tabletop and the other holding up the menu sheet. Phichit watched as his eyes flickered across the single page, face expressionless, and he chuckled as he imagined a robot trying to gather information about humans from a barbecue menu.

Seung-gil glanced up at him without moving his head.

“Hm?”

“Nothing!” Phichit quickly blurted and couldn’t hide the smile on his face. It was almost impossible for him to do so.

Seung-gil didn’t reply, merely returned to scanning the variety of meats, and Phichit inwardly sighed. His date was good-looking, he’d admit, but this lack of substantial conversation was reminding him too much of the last seven or so dates he’d gone on. Why was it so hard to find the complete package?

“How do you know Viktor?” he ventured, not wanting to end the night so soon. He hadn’t even gotten his water yet.

“Work.”

Was it really going to be a struggle to get this man to talk?

“Oh, so like, photography,” or something. Phichit still wasn’t entirely sure what Viktor did, but it involved a camera and sometimes famous people. He wasn’t one of those scrappy looking photographers though. He always dressed neatly for work, like he was a model himself and not the guy behind the lens.

“I guess.”

Seung-gil was looking at him again and Phichit couldn’t help but look back, especially since the other man’s eyes were so piercing and _black_. Everything about him was inky black. His suit, his tie, those cufflinks, even the hair on his head. Phichit’s black hair was a mix of dark and darker browns, but Seung-gil was the definition of jet black. It was sharp and classy, just like in the magazines Viktor often shot for.

The waitress came back and set two glasses down on the table, one was water and the other a glass of beer. She said something to Seung-gil and he lifted the menu up higher, pointing at several things on it while speaking rapidly. Phichit glanced down at his own menu, realizing that he hadn’t thought for a second on what to eat, and when Seung-gil was done talking, the waitress walked away again.

“I ordered a variety of things,” Seung-gil said and sipped at his beer, “Vegetables and meat. I heard you like vegetables.”

“Yuuri sure told you a lot,” Phichit replied, feeling a little betrayed. What were people supposed to talk about on first dates if not food preferences? Yuuri was taking all his topics away!

“Not really. Just ideas on where to take you and what to order for you,” Seung-gil said with a shrug and set his menu aside. A waiter came over and fumbled with something beneath their table, probably heating up their grill.

“He said you should order for me?” Phichit asked, feeling a bit chilled.

“He said that I should try and make it so that you don’t worry too much tonight.”

Seung-gil spoke so directly and without much consideration, very matter-of-fact, yet his manner of speech had a confident ease to it that pinched off any chance for rebuttal. Phichit couldn’t even feel defensive over being treated like he was delicate because somehow Seung-gil didn’t make him feel that way. There was no patronization in his tone and he didn’t leer at Phichit with a hint that he’d need to put out after dinner.

“Oh. Thanks, I guess,” Phichit said, feeling that his reaction wasn’t appropriate.

He had no idea how he should’ve replied and couldn’t summon the fake energy that he’d used in previous encounters with the various men who took him out to dinner.

“Do you go on a lot of dates?” he asked, switching topics.

Seung-gil took a long drink of his beer and set the mug down silently. He shrugged and finally leaned over the table instead of sitting straight as a board. Phichit was certain nobody could sit like that for too long without back support. Seung-gil still looked poised even as he rested his cheek against his hand.

“Not really.”

Here it was, the short answer, but Phichit wasn’t going to give up. He’d been looking forward to tonight’s dinner once he found out what it would be, and he’d gone out of his way to drive into downtown. He’d fought bad traffic and was about to eat something he enjoyed, so he wasn’t going to let a bit of bad conversation drive him out the door with his upset stomach act. As long as Seung-gil didn’t start playing with his feet, he’d be fine.

“Who was the last person you went on a date with?” he pressed and sipped at his water, eyes trained on the man seated across from him.

Seung-gil took a few seconds longer than previously to answer, and it was preceded with a look of deep thought, as if he had to dig deep for the memory.

“Don’t remember much,” he said finally, brows furrowed, as if disappointed in himself or whoever it was he’d been dating.

Phichit’s smile was back, edged with curiosity. He kind of wanted to know more.

“Was it that bad?” he nudged.

Seung-gil finished off his beer and motioned for someone to come over. It was a different waitress, but she took his next order nonetheless.

“I don’t recall.”

“Ooh, that sounds bad,” Phichit mused.

There was that look again, like Seung-gil was studying him through simple eye contact, reading him and understanding his every thought even as they sat in silence. Phichit didn’t turn his gaze away. He felt less nervous than he had at the beginning, more comfortable now that he could see that Seung-gil wasn’t the smooth phone operator type that Yuuri’s boyfriend oozed even when he sneezed.

Phichit didn’t know what he would’ve done if his date for the night was a Viktor clone. He always teased Yuuri about how handsome and perfect his boyfriend was, but at the same time he was in awe that Yuuri could handle someone like that without a hint of flustered babbling.

“It’s not something worth talking about,” Seung-gil said.

Phichit wondered if he’d hit a nerve.

Before he could find out, several plates of raw meat and vegetables were brought over and set around their table. He quietly watched as several slabs were slapped onto the steaming grill, marking the beginning of this dining adventure, and he listened with impatient excitement to the sizzling of meat. When the servers were gone, Seung-gil plucked up a few vegetables and set them on the grill as well, closer to Phichit’s side.

“If you want more of something, just let me know,” Seung-gil said, his voice low and monotone the way it had been all night. He was moving pieces of what Phichit guessed was beef and pork, face impassive and looking nothing like what Phichit was feeling as the delicious aromas wafted up.

“I can order it on my own,” Phichit asserted and poked at a mushroom.

“Suit yourself.”

He glanced up at the dismissive remark, not knowing if he should frown or be thankful. All night, he’d expected a painfully flirtatious fight with his date. He thought he’d have to fake smiles and listen to the usual begging for him to trust this stranger, to relax and sit back, to be spoiled and treated like he deserved to be. Whatever that meant. All those things and whatever other pleasantries that had been thrown at him over the last seven months, he was ready for them.

But this was all unexpected. This was the other end of the awkward date spectrum.

Seung-gil’s attitude and answers were kind of refreshing, but his choppy answers held much to be desired. It seemed like Phichit really wouldn’t have it all. Too bad.

“This’ll be fun,” he muttered as he flipped the mushroom.

“What?”

He glanced up, once again meeting those dark, opaque irises, then he motioned over the grill at the space between them.

“This.”

He received a blank look and forced a smile.

“Is it really that fun to grill meat?” Seung-gil asked, brow raised.

Phichit sighed, his smile threatening to crumble. He was resilient and forced it to stand proud and unmoving. He even widened it a bit for further emphasis on the amount of emotion masking he was undergoing.

No sense of humor, either?

Wonderful.

* * *

Phichit ended up staying at that restaurant, eating his fill, and even having one beer toward the end of the meal. The conversation stayed at an all-time low until the last second, but he’d found Seung-gil’s dismissive attitude of anything resembling typical date talk quite humorous. It took a while for Phichit to feel that way instead of hopeless toward a romantic life, but once he got to the point of finding humor in Seung-gil’s blandness, he decided to ride with it.

It was the first date where Phichit didn’t get into extensive discussion about his favorite color, horoscope, or what he studied in college. After one final sip of water, he realized he didn’t know Seung-gil’s last name or what he did for a living. He’d asked and never been answered, right?

Oh well.

The end of this date was a bit like any other. Phichit had argued a little over who would pay, but for once he genuinely cared and wasn’t playing the pretend card for the sake of not seeming like a mooch. Seung-gil settled the bill with a simple, “No,” and Phichit sighed and gave in, waiting and watching as Seung-gil opened the check. He pulled out a card from his wallet and tucked it in before setting the booklet on the edge of the table, not once glancing at the actual receipt.

Phichit was honestly surprised that he wasn’t being asked to at least offer the tip. He’d looked the menu over several times tonight and had an idea of what the cost might be.

When Seung-gil got his card back, he signed and left a sizeable tip before getting up and grabbing his jacket. Phichit followed suit and thanked their waitress who bowed low to Seung-gil’s retreating form. Phichit was certain he would’ve reacted the same way considering the amount of money she’d be pocketing that night from this one customer.

He was slow to follow Seung-gil out of the restaurant, took his time with saying goodbye to the hostess who bowed as they exited, and took a deep breath of night air as he planned out the next part of the first date.  

The goodbye was always a little rough for Phichit. He never knew how to end a first date, especially because every single one he’d had was either simultaneously a last date or ended right after the food arrived, when he decided he didn’t have the heart to keep pretending he was interested.

He had to pat himself on the back about tonight, because he’d arrived earlier than expected and stayed later than originally planned. Two records in one.

He’d never given his phone number away after a date, preferring to be honest and say that he wasn’t interested in pursuing things further. Several times, he’d had to refuse being walked to his car because he was certain he wouldn’t even make it. Those had been some scary nights and Yuuri had apologized profusely for even setting him up with those individuals.

When Seung-gil had yet to say anything, Phichit made the first move.

“Where did you park?” he asked Seung-gil, wanting to get this over with.

He watched from the corner of his eye as Seung-gil slid his jacket back on. Perfectly in place with the buttons done up and tie neatly tucked.

“Street.”

Phichit waited, expecting the question to be returned, but all he received was a blank stare followed by a confused, raised brow.

And then, “What?”

Tonight was full of endless surprises.

“It’s nothing!” he reassured and watched as Seung-gil shoved his hands into his pant pockets.

Another pause, more confused looks, and then Phichit sighed.

“Anyway, thanks for dinner. Drive safely, okay?”

He couldn’t believe he was the one saying it, and it wasn’t after an awkward exchange of refusing to get into the other guy’s car. Seung-gil only nodded to him before turning and walking away, and Phichit’s mouth fell open in shock. This was the first of many first dates.

It made him feel a little disappointed, as if he was the one being rejected and not the other way around.

He watched Seung-gil disappear around the building and then hurried off across the street to the parking garage, glancing over his shoulder to make certain that he wasn’t being followed by an angry and explosive date. There was nobody, not even a bush that he mistook for a lurking shadow, and he made it to his car without a fuss.

Nobody pressing him up against the door, trying to get an alcohol-stained kiss. Nobody playfully grabbing for his keys and making him decide between a kick or a punch. He was alone in the garage and thankfully there was no ticket on the windshield, something he’d half-expected since the mall had closed an hour ago. It seemed this garage was left open for anyone smart enough to use it on weekday nights. Lucky him.

He climbed in and locked the door immediately, a habitual precaution when alone in the city. He pulled out his phone to check the notifications, blinking at the timestamps. He hadn’t looked at the device the entire time during this date, not even when he’d gone to the bathroom. Another first.

From Yuuri came a slew of texts that ranged from innocent questions to cheering Phichit on through his date. The last text was sent half-an-hour ago, a question asking if he was okay. Phichit tried to come up with a funny response, perhaps his usual joke of being locked in his date’s trunk, but even that felt flat.

‘The food was good,’ he sent and set the phone in a cup holder before turning on the ignition. It would be a bit of a drive to get home, but at least the freeway would be free of traffic.

Before he could shift the car into reverse, his phone beeped, so he picked it up to check the message. His face lit up with a smile.

‘I promised you’d like him.’

He speedily replied before setting the phone down again and backing out of the parking space. He heard his phone go off once more, but he wouldn’t reply to it until he got home. He needed to sort through his thoughts first before attempting a proper conversation about his date with Seung-gil.

* * *

Phichit was woken up, too early in his opinion, by his mother opening his bedroom door and shouting something about eating before she clomped away. Probably in those thick, wedged sandals that she favored over actual stylish shoes. He had no idea why she kept buying those kinds of sandals and wondered from time-to-time just how comfortable they were.

He rolled out of bed and padded down the hallway to the shared bathroom, though he was the only one using it these days. His parents had a bathroom connected to their own bedroom, located at the other end of the hallway, and his sister hadn’t been living at home with them for several years now.

After washing his face, he went back to his room and stood in front of his dresser, picking up the earrings he’d been forced to set down before his date last night.

Oh. That’s right. The date.

He slid the bars and backs into place, eyes focusing on the mirror at the black stones of the earrings he’d gone to sleep with. He picked up the final hoop for his nose and gently slipped it in, locking it in place. He’d gotten this one sometime during college, when he was bored and Yuuri happened to take him out to lunch at a sandwich shop right beside a piercing and tattoo studio. It had been a quick thirty minutes.

His parents had given one look at it and sighed in disappointment. No comments were necessary considering he’d prepared them for this day with each set of metal that was tenderly added to the collection in his ears.

“No brows,” his mother said firmly, and he decided he wouldn’t give them that heart attack for another few years.

Once his decorations were back in, he slid on a pair of sweatpants, feeling like he needed to dress down as much as possible considering he’d dressed up beyond his normal limitations last night.

His date last night.

He pulled a loose sweater over his head and pushed the sleeves to his elbows, then unplugged his phone from its charger before leaving the room and making his way downstairs. He passed by the kitchen, but he wasn’t feeling hungry. His stomach was still full from last night’s dinner, probably because he’d stuffed himself with meat that would take a while to digest. The thought made him sick now, but last night there was no denying that he welcomed every delicious bite.

He stepped outside, walked down the stairs of the apartment, then ambled on down the sidewalk to the corner plaza. He was certain his mom was attending to an early customer down at the shop, and he had nothing better to do today than stick around and see if any of his own regulars dropped by. He’d told Yuuri to stop by too, if possible.

The massage salon run by his parents was relatively small with a waiting space that seated four people and two curtained spaces that hid massage beds. It could hardly be called a luxurious salon, but it got the job done, and there were a handful of regulars keeping it afloat as well as the curious one-timers.

Phichit wasn’t certified to give massages, but he did it anyway for customers that had been coming since he was in grade school. Everything he knew, he’d learned from his parents, and the technique wasn’t that hard to master since he’d grown up seeing it and practicing every chance he could get. It helped that his regular “clients” were old, Thai folks that wanted to support him in his parents’ trade. They received some heavy discounts though, which didn’t help the shop much, but for the sake of family relationships it was fine.

Getting a certificate was something he’d only considered recently, because he didn’t think he’d take over the shop from his parents. To be honest, he never imagined it would last this long. Tons of family-run beauty salons and spas were being torn down the last few years to make way for catchy chain shops that mimicked the more lavish salons in the upscale neighborhoods of L.A. He figured that, in time, his parents’ business would be targeted next. Somehow, year-after-year, the place managed to survive.

Until now, that is.

He tried to push away the negative thoughts that came whenever he recalled the letter that had come in the mail. There was a legal battle going on over this plaza, that some bigger business was trying to buy it off, revamp the building, and replace the entire plaza with a giant chain spa and salon. His parents had been furious and were fighting alongside the landlord to keep hold of the shop, but Phichit didn’t think it’d last long. Besides the massage salon, the plaza only had a corner grocery and one of those places that cashed checks. Every other store had closed for business in the last two years.

Phichit walked around the side of the building, a hand over his mouth as he yawned, and when he stepped onto the nearly desolate parking lot he froze mid-step. His eyes widened, his heart jolting and picking up the pace, and he stared wordlessly at the familiar figure standing right outside his family’s place.

“Seung-gil!?”

The other man, who’d been staring at the front door and the peeling glass tint, turned to look at him. Phichit didn’t notice even an ounce of mild shock on Seung-gil’s face. It was that same, bored expression that he’d grown accustomed to the previous night.

What the hell was he doing here? And what was he wearing?

Instead of the sleek black, finely cut suit he’d sported last night, Seung-gil was in a relaxed pair of gray jeans and a simple cotton T-shirt with a graphic on the front that looked like a jumbled mess of words. His hair was also wavy and without an ounce of spray or styling wax.

Was this a ruse? Or was last night the real joke?

Phichit slowed his steps as he moved closer and glanced at the two cars parked in front of the store. There was the familiar, beat down sedan he recognized as one of his mom’s favorite clients, and then right beside it was a newly waxed, black Audi. It was obvious that it was Seung-gil’s, apart from the fact that cars like that rarely turned up in corners of the city like this. They were more plentiful several blocks away, toward the beach neighborhoods.

“Good morning,” Seung-gil greeted, as if he were a regular.

Phichit was still speechless and glanced at the glinting windshield of the sports car. This was what Seung-gil was driving last night? Good thing he hadn’t offered to walk Phichit to the hunk of metal he called a car. That poor vehicle saw the mechanic more times a year than an actual car wash.

When Phichit turned his attention back to the man he never thought he'd see again, he caught Seung-gil staring at his arms and glanced down, realizing that the ink on his left arm was showing. He tugged his sleeves down quickly, conflicted feelings immediately painting his cheeks with warmth. He'd been so adamant with Yuuri yesterday that his tats were his life and not showing them was like lying to himself. Why cover up now?

“Why are you here?” Phichit asked to divert the attention from himself. A rush of embarrassment and annoyance crashed atop his already tense feelings.

There was also a hint of nervousness, that perhaps he was being stalked, that maybe his words or attitude last night set Seung-gil off, and his date had spent all night looking him up on all the social media sites he left public to track him down and get back at him for ruining an already horribly awkward dinner.

“Is this your family’s place?” Seung-gil asked, evading his question entirely.

Phichit searched for a time last night and a time any night this year in which he’d told a complete stranger where his family worked, a location that was quite close to where he lived. Even if he had even been slightly drunk, he was certain he wouldn’t spill that kind of personal information on a first meeting.

“How do you know?” he asked, suspicious.

Seung-gil stared at him and shrugged.

“Yuuri.”

Phichit paused and took his phone out of his pocket, ready to call his friend and yell at him. Last night when he’d gotten home, he and Yuuri had texted for another half-hour before Phichit had called it quits for the day. He’d still been sorting out his thoughts and feelings regarding his date with Seung-gil, but what did it matter in the end. The deadpan, no nonsense guy was here right now.

Why would Yuuri tell him?

“Look, I don’t know what you want, but don’t come here thinking you’ll get anything out of me after last night!”

Phichit stumbled a little over his words but kept his head up and tried to look as menacing as he could. It wasn’t easy to pull off, considering his oversized sweater, baggy sweatpants, and messy bed hair. Or the fact that he was frowning with worry instead of growling in defense.

Seung-gil just stared some more before looking away and scratching at the back of his ear.

“I’m not here for…getting anything. I just want a massage. Yuuri said you do a good job,” he said as nonchalantly as when he’d ordered a second round of rather expensive beef last night when Phichit happened to say he liked it.

The guy drove an Audi, so it’s not like he couldn’t afford it, but the price of that one piece of meat racked up to the amount of money Phichit was willing to pay for a meal.

“Massage,” he repeated, as if he’d never done a massage in his life, as if his parents hadn’t been giving massages since before his birth.

“Yeah. A massage. That’s what this place is, right?” Seung-gil asked, sounding confused for once.

They continued to stare at one another, the eye contact not as loaded in the morning sunlight as it had been in the dimly lit restaurant and smoke of the grill. Nevertheless, Phichit was floored and found himself drowning in the darkness.

He’d call Yuuri later and shout at him when he had more energy. With a sigh, Phichit shrugged one shoulder and motioned with one hand for Seung-gil to follow him.

“Come in, I guess,” he muttered and made his way into the shop, holding the door open for his first customer of the day.


	2. Aquamarine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, an update. I'm actually about to get busy with end of the year projects and papers. But I've got to crank out what I can!
> 
> Thank you for the comments, kudos, and bookmarks so far. I always like to hear my readers' thoughts about what I write.
> 
> Hope you can enjoy this chapter too. Thanks in advance for checking it out!

* * *

Whether Phichit wanted it, his mother was going to make Seung-gil part of her business in nosiness. As soon as he pushed the door open and the hanging wind chime jingled, her head poked out from the curtains and her eyes widened. New blood always got her hopping about.

She was a small woman, smaller than her children, but she had the strongest heart Phichit had ever witnessed in a person.  She always smiled, kept her chin up, and had tons of wise words mixed in with the usual motherly teasing.

Anytime someone new came to the shop, she took it as a sign that their business wasn’t tanking, that things were finally looking up. Her son never had the heart to correct her, especially because she also had the strongest touch and could probably break him in half if she wanted.

“Hello! Good morning!” she greeted with her trademark smile of pearly teeth and bright eyes. She waved a hand, the palm glistening with oil.

“Hello,” Seung-gil politely replied and gave a curt bow of his head.

Phichit could see the hearts fluttering to life in his mother’s eyes. Nothing got her casting her gaze down while giggling behind a hand like a younger man with polite mannerism. Phichit found it odd because his father was anything but a quiet, civilized man. Maybe that was all in his past life, before he had to start combing his graying hairs over a growing bald spot.

“Come, come. Peach, why are you wearing such a sweater? Those earrings again, tsk! Go to the back,” she commanded and disappeared behind the curtain again.

Phichit was unbothered by the disdain toward his jewelry, but he sighed at the use of the nickname. He cast a glance at his surprise guest to try and gauge any reaction he might’ve had toward his bubbly mother. There was only blankness on Seung-gil’s face. As expected.

“Come on,” Phichit muttered and motioned for the other man to follow him to the curtained bed furthest in the back.

“Peach?” Seung-gil asked, with less teasing and more curiosity than was expected.

Phichit sighed again, then shook off the mild embarrassment with a smile. “She thinks it’s cute to use fruits as nicknames for her kids. It’s either that, or I’m a duck.”

“Duck?”

“She thinks random animal nicknames are just as adorable. Sometimes I’m Peach Duck.”

Each of the four massage tables had a curtain hanging completely around it, creating four private rooms within the salon. Phichit stood at the entrance of the one that had been designated as his own for the last few years, and he held out an arm to welcome Seung-gil in.

No expression from him. Just a slow blink.

“Duck,” Seung-gil repeated with as much flatness as Phichit recalled from last night. It almost sounded like Seung-gil was mocking him, except there was no familiar, accompanying grin to suggest it.

Phichit slid the curtain shut once Seung-gil stepped into the dimly lit space—the bulbs really needed to be changed soon—then pulled off his sweater and hung it on the wall hook. When he turned to face Seung-gil again, he noticed the other’s eyes shifting away from where they’d been focused on his arm.

Oh, his tattoo. Was Seung-gil the type to be bothered by tattoos? Was that why Yuuri wanted him to cover them up so badly, or was Yuuri just being a conservative stick?

Seung-gil glanced around at the space that barely fit them, a low stool, and the worn yet functional massage table. Then his eyes connected with Phichit’s, gray to gray.

“Do I undress?” he asked, one arm crossed in front of his body with his hand gripping his arm. He looked to be squeezing more than holding. Was he nervous?

Phichit paused, on his way out to retrieve some oil and a towel. It hit him at that moment, that he’d met Seung-gil last night, that they’d had an awkward dinner he bothered seeing all the way to the end, that he now had a chance to get this stale man to undress. It had been a while since he’d wanted to see anyone take their clothes off, and he wondered if this could be called moving too fast.

The fact that his lackluster date showed up a day after their humdrum yet tasty meal together to request a massage was a bit strange on its own. Maybe this was a typical thing for Phichit now, dating boring people who wanted him for his massages.

“Do you want the oil and hot towel special treatment? Or a no bells and whistles kind of deal?” he asked with a smidge of hope for the latter.

“That. Deal.”

Phichit felt his lips quirk at Seung-gil’s manner of repeating words to form an answer. Simple, like a child, and somehow befitting a man who’d traded a cool, nighttime adult look for the T-shirt and jeans college kid combo. Not that Phichit could criticize much, considering he’d traded his button-up for a big comfy sweater.

“Keep the shirt and pants,” he said and made a shooing motion with his hands toward the bed, “Lie down on your stomach.”

He watched as Seung-gil slid off his shoes before crawling atop the bed, and he pretended to clear his throat in an attempt to cover up the squeaky creak of the cracked leather. He’d asked his parents to buy new beds a countless number of times, but as positive as his mother was, there was that silent dread that it would go to waste if they’d have to close the shop anyway.

Phichit stood by the side of the massage table and waited for Seung-gil to get comfortable. He looked like a floppig fish with the way he shifted his arms up and down, one elbow stiff and turned at an angle as if unsure on whether it should straighten or bend.

“Where do my arms go?” Seung-gil asked, voice muffled by the hole his face was sticking through.

Phichit was trying so hard not to laugh.

“By your side. Under your head. Whatever’s comfortable,” he replied and began to lightly push at Seung-gil’s shoulder blades, getting a feel for his body, “Never had a massage before?”

“Never.” Seung-gil left his arms at his sides and his body went limp. A real, dead fish.

“Oh, makes sense. You feel like a brick wall,” Phichit teased and pressed down with his thumbs, gently kneading in slow circles, “You should probably get them more often.”

“I don’t like the idea of them,” Seung-gil replied, voice softer and body tensing under Phichit’s touch. He wasn’t even massaging that hard, less than half the power he used on others, but he guessed that someone new to the experience would feel overwhelmed.

Phichit dialed down on the power and speed of his motions. There wasn’t anyone waiting on him and although he hadn’t been expecting Seung-gil to drop in, the guy deserved to have a good first-time experience with a massage. There would only be basics, no grabbing and cracking that most customers came in for, and hopefully it’d be memorable without Phichit being signed off as a vengeful former date.

Perhaps their dinner could’ve used more laughter, fun, and overall cheer, but Phichit had gone through worse. He didn’t hate Seung-gil, didn’t detest his existence. He was mostly curious about him, how a man who could dress so well and obviously owned luxurious things could lack the charisma typical of a person in his position.

Seung-gil was no Viktor, that was for sure, and Phichit wondered why he’d been expecting it. No, he wondered why it wasn’t the truth if Viktor was also a well-dressed man who owned somewhat nice things and treated his best friend with utmost respect and devotion.

He wasn’t jealous, no. He was happy for Yuuri, but he doubted he’d want that same kind of open affection for himself that showered his best friend every second of the day. Of course, he hadn’t had a proper boyfriend in a while, so who’s to say what he even wanted in a romantic partner anymore.

“Why are you here? Are you stalking me?” Phichit asked and immediately wished he hadn’t. That sounded accusing and suspicious and he had no right to be.

“Maybe.”

The answer was too quick. Usually, Phichit could hear a smile in someone’s voice without seeing their face, which meant he could easily pick up on jokes. Over the last few years, he’d had plenty of practice developing this ability while giving massages to people whose faces he rarely saw during a session. Even when speaking over the phone, he could almost see a person’s expressions just from the way they spoke, and he’d learned that smiles were the loudest of all.

With Seung-gil, this skill was entirely ineffective. There was abounding flatness in his voice, a lack of body language to interpret, so a single word like ‘maybe’ and all its possible meanings in this context was hard to decode.

Maybe he was stalking Phichit and a call to the cops was necessary? Maybe he was stalking Phichit but not really, it was just funny because Phichit was joking? Maybe, except not really, he wasn’t sure of how to answer?

“You just wanted a free massage?” Phichit asked, continuing in a humorous spirit.

Regardless of that ‘maybe’ and even if he’d appeared without warning, Seung-gil could hardly be considered the malevolent stalker type. Not when compared to other people Phichit had crossed paths with in the more menacing neighborhoods of the city. He usually had a sense for these things and all that he got from Seung-gil was….

Well, nothing. Honestly, he felt absolutely nothing from Seung-gil. No presence. No essence that separated him from a lost shoe or this massage table where he lay tense as a slab of stone.

“I’ll pay. Money is no concern,” he managed to say through gritted teeth. Even through his teeth, there was still that void, borderline blasé tone.

Phichit let up on the painful prodding, giving Seung-gil a chance to collect himself, not that he was actually losing it. But tensing up the way he was made the entire massage pointless.

“Clearly it isn’t a concern considering that car you parked out front.”

Phichit didn’t mean to come off as bitter and hoped that Seung-gil wouldn’t take it that way. He’d grown up content with what he owned and learned not to be envious of others. On the other hand, he knew that downplaying a car like Seung-gil’s to ‘average’ would just come off as petty.

There wasn’t an immediate response, but he gave Seung-gil time to digest the words and reply if he so chose. Phichit wanted to focus more on the knot he’d just found in the man’s lower back. He was a bit shocked that he could literally flick it back and forth like a switch. Seung-gil grunted through the relentless grinding, though he was clutching at the edge of the massage table with one hand. Not white-knuckled, not yet.

“Is it too much?” Phichit asked, pausing in the painful manipulation to give his thumb and Seung-gil’s nerves a short break.

Seung-gil turned his head to the side, eyes trained on him.

“Fine,” he breathed, voice softer than ever. His brows were furrowed, eyes strained, but it was all gone when he hid his face once more and breathed deeply. His hands clenched and unclenched a series of times, and when he finally settled down again Phichit continued the grinding.

“--t mine,” Seung-gil muttered and Phichit paused again. He leaned down to try and catch the words once more.

“I’m sorry?” he nudged, resting his free hand on Seung-gil’s back to check that he was breathing regularly through the painful massage. A little quick, but easy to settle. The guy was resilient, for sure.

“The car. It isn’t mine,” Seung-gil said louder, a tad clearer albeit subdued by the cushions.

Phichit hummed to himself and decided that fiddling with the knot would be enough for now. He didn’t want to leave a bruise.

His fingers danced upwards to Seung-gil’s shoulders, squeezing in pulses down his arms to the wrists. Then, he took hold of one hand, finding it a little sweaty, but that never bothered him. Seung-gil’s fingers twitched as he began to rub at the center of his palms, and Phichit gave the hand a quick shake to try and relax it. He continued the kneading motion, slower, gentler.

“Did you steal it?” he asked, chuckling when Seung-gil exhaled loudly. Probably trying to release more tension and calm himself.

“No. Borrowed.”

It felt like Seung-gil was firing words at him with how tersely they were delivered, but Phichit hardly took offense to the tone and rapid manner of speech. After working with a variety of personalities from the customers who were constantly in and out of the shop, he rarely went on the defensive about anything. Regardless of what was said to him, humor was a great way to lower tension, and he used it every chance he had.

“The car I used last night was borrowed, too. And my style of clothes. As you can see, I don’t normally dress so stiff,” he offered and smiled. He wondered if Seung-gil was like him and could hear the expressions on a person’s face.

“You regularly wear sweatpants and oversized sweaters.”

It wasn’t a question but Phichit felt the need to offer an answer with explanation. He wasn’t a slob and he wasn’t going to let anyone think of him in that way.

“Actually, I don’t regularly dress sloppy. I just felt the need to turn down the class after our business casual party.”

He lowered the hand he’d been massaging back to the bed, then circled around the table to the other one. Seung-gil had soft skin, wide hands, and short fingers. He was also so tense down to his finely manicured fingernails that Phichit thought he might find a knot in his palm.

“This suits you more. You didn’t look comfortable,” Seung-gil murmured.

Phichit’s mouth twitched. Once again, he didn’t know if the man was being mean or simply had no control over his blunt honesty. It was refreshing yet left him slightly disoriented, unsure of where to move forward in the conversation. The lack of feeling in Seung-gil’s voice and body language was a new experience for him.

“Thanks.”

The word hummed in the air between them, solitary and without opening for additional contribution. This was the end of a conversation that was as starved of sustenance as the one they’d had last night. What had either of them gained from this exchange?

Phichit settled Seung-gil’s other hand down once he’d wiggled and tugged on the fingers, then gave the man a final pat on the shoulder before walking away to open the curtain.

“All done!” he chimed, “I’ll be at the front, but take your time with your shoes and—oh.”

Seung-gil pushed himself up, slid off the bed, and bent over to put his shoes back on before Phichit could get through his regular post-massage instructions. He didn’t even have time to warn Seung-gil to take it easy since he might be feeling a little sore, and he watched with a hidden smile as the man stumbled a bit when slipping on his loafers before he managed to stand straight.

Phichit took a second to admire Seung-gil’s footwear, loafers that looked new from the box, and then motioned with an extended arm for Seung-gil to head to the front desk.

His mother was chatting with her customer outside and Phichit noticed how they both motioned to the shiny, black car in the lot. Anybody rolling up to this salon would be impressed with a car like that, or maybe they’d lean toward surprise that someone owning that vehicle would stop in this part of town for a massage. There were dozens of classier places to go to, even right down the street, and those chain spas were becoming a real hit with all their discounts and perks.

A guy like Seung-gil seemed too upscale for this cracked pavement kind of shop, even with his T-shirt with the vague print that Phichit now realized formed the shape of an animal head. Maybe a dog’s.

“How much?” Seung-gil asked, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a card. He’d had it there the entire time and Phichit could’ve probably slid it out without his knowledge, if he’d been aware of its existence. How trusting.

“I’d want to say not to worry about it since you paid for dinner last night, but my mom would be pretty upset. Especially considering that out there,” Phichit said and waved vaguely in the direction of the car. He hated focusing on it too much since Seung-gil didn’t seem to care about it, but it was kind of a big deal.

“I said not to worry, I’ll pay full price,” Seung-gil said and glanced down at the service menu taped onto the counter.

Phichit slapped his hand over the column of listed massage prices and cracked a grin.

“You get a discount, on the house!"

He paused, pretending to calculate a cost in his head, then chirped out, “Thirty dollars, please!”

Seung-gil didn’t hesitate with handing over his card and Phichit swiped it quickly before there was a chance for argument. His mom would seriously chew his ear off when she heard how low he’d charged, but it wasn’t a massive discount considering it was the most basic of services. The only thing that cost less was a foot rub, and sometimes Phichit gave those for free. He was terrible with business.

He tore the receipt off once it printed and placed it with a pen in front of Seung-gil.

“Hope you liked the massage. Take it easy because you might be a little sore. I did my best not to leave a bruise, though you really should consider seeing a proper masseuse in the future. Or man masseuse. Masseur? Unless you do prefer a lady.”

“You’re not proper?” Seung-gil asked, tucking his card back into his pocket and pulling out a key fob next, probably for his car.

“Hardly. I’m not certified to do this, you know. Just experienced.”

Phichit settled his hands on his hips, playfully challenging the other to say something, but Seung-gil just blinked before heading to the door. Phichit’s shoulders slumped. Why did he keep expecting something humorous was going to come out of their exchanges?

“Tell Viktor I said hi!” he called out and Seung-gil looked at him with mild confusion.

“I don’t actually work with him. Only in passing,” he answered back and gave a wave before stepping out.

Phichit watched through the tinted windows as his mother turned to Seung-gil, gave him a bow, and probably thanked him with a slew of words for his patronage. She was good at doling out the compliments and gratitude without seeming pushy for the person to return, a trait that Phichit desperately needed to pick up if he wanted the shop to make money from returning clients. Either he told people they _had_ to come back, or he forgot completely.

With Seung-gil, he did neither and simply told the man to go elsewhere. He hadn’t even bothered to give him a card, expecting this to be a one-time thing.

His mother took her time saying goodbye, bowing again to Seung-gil as he got into his car and drove off, and she even waved at him like he was royalty. Sometimes she overdid it but Phichit wasn’t about to tell her to stop.

He tucked the pen back into the pencil holder sitting beside the old register, then took the receipt and wondered how to hide it from his mother. Then his eyes scanned over the amount written down on the line reserved for tips and he sucked in a breath. The total amount he’d earned, courtesy of the generous tip Seung-gil had written, was more than double the amount of the actual price. This would definitely bring cheer to his mother’s day

* * *

In the following four hours, three regulars came in followed by a new face who was stopping by for a rushed walk-in. The salon had never been so busy that it couldn’t accept someone without an appointment—Phichit wasn’t even certain when he’d last written down an appointment—but for a weekday it certainly seemed like his mother’s positive outlook for the shop’s future was justified.

The tips were nice as well, and Phichit tucked them in a lockable drawer as extra income. Technically, they’d be funneled to him anyway since he was the dependent son of the shop owners, but it didn’t feel right to just take them directly for himself.

Yuuri dropped by after Phichit came back from having a late lunch at home, and Phichit’s mother was out doing errands. This meant he could change the ever-present, ambient white noise to his phone’s playlist. He didn’t have an issue with the calming sound of a flowing waterfall mixed with the chirping of birds, but he’d heard it for a number of years and could predict the pattern of chirps at this point. And, it didn’t quite fit his mood.

“You need to tell me about your date!” was the first thing Yuuri said when he stepped inside. He made his way to Phichit’s designated corner bed, a wide smile on his face. Phichit grabbed some oil and a washed towel and quickly followed along.

“First off,” he cut in and sharply tugged the curtains closed, “Why did you tell him I work here?”

Yuuri set his backpack on the nearby stool, slid off his shoes and shirt, and then crawled onto the massage bed. He laid on his stomach and folded his arms under his head, eyes watching Phichit.

“Did he visit?” he asked innocently.

“Yes! I had a mini-heart attack because I thought he was a stalker. I’m not even sure he _isn’t_ a stalker, but I trust him, maybe, because he’s Viktor’s...acquaintance-friend.”

Yuuri chuckled and shut his eyes as Phichit settled his hands onto his warm skin, and he sighed blissfully as Phichit started to gently knead his shoulders.

“It’s not like I told him to come,” Yuuri responded, “He was curious about your job and I said you kind of do massage and he should try it out. He asked where you work. And obviously I’d tell him. I mean, what’s the harm? Like you said, he’s Viktor’s acquaintance.”

“Acquaintance-friend. Apparently, they don’t work together often. Anyway, Viktor was a bit creepy at first, too. You’ve got to admit…”

“No, he wasn’t!” Yuuri sharply denied.

They’d gone over this subject a hundred times and it was one of those recyclable jokes that would never get old. Even with Yuuri’s long-suffering sigh, Phichit knew that he could prod at the idea any day. Viktor Nikiforov had honestly seemed a little too desperate for Yuuri’s affection in the beginning. Everyone thought so, but Yuuri probably didn’t notice because he’d simultaneously been rather enthusiastic for any attention from the amateur photographer.

“At least he didn’t post any weird photos of you on the web,” Phichit mused and chuckled when Yuuri kicked a leg in frustration, “I was seriously worried when he kept pressing you for a private photoshoot. What does that even mean if not porn?”

Yuuri grumbled and pushed himself up, only to be pressed back down when Phichit playfully flopped atop him. His mood was lifting, as it always did when his best friend dropped by. He pretended to play dead as Yuuri grunted and made one last attempt to defend himself by jerking upwards to try and knock him away.

“I didn’t come here for the porn rumors again,” Yuuri groaned.

Phichit laughed and stood up properly. He gave his friend an apologetic pat before picking up the oil bottle that was less than half-empty. He rubbed the slippery liquid between his palms to warm it up, then slathered it along Yuuri’s skin before getting to the real work.

“Tell me about last night,” Yuuri repeated before Phichit could bring anything else up, “You did cover your tattoos, right? Did he see them today? What did he say?"

“You’re going to work yourself into a panic over nothing,” Phichit chided and grinned when Yuuri let out an agonized moan, “What were you doing yesterday? Your back is already a wreck.”

“Cleaning the house. But focus! Focus! Tell me about last night!” Yuuri whined and kicked his feet again.

“Do you want me to do your legs and feet too?”

“Tell me!”

Phichit shook with laughter at the intense pleading and paused for dramatic effect while massaging a tense spot beneath Yuuri’s left shoulder blade. Once satisfied that it was taken care of, he released whatever feelings had been plaguing him last night with a heavy sigh and moved his hands elsewhere.

“It was okay,” he said and began pressing the heels of his hands up and down the expanse of muscle. Yuuri wasn’t as trim as he’d been during their high school days, but he’d managed to stay fit. More to work with, as Phichit liked to say. Viktor would agree.

“Was he that bad? I’m so sorry, I thought he’d be great for you! Viktor said he’s a nice guy.”

Yuuri tried to push himself up again, pivoting to shoot Phichit a worried look, and Phichit simply pressed him back down to the bed.

“Relax. He wasn’t terrible. He’s just not a talker. I mean, I dunno, I felt like he didn’t want to be there. But he wasn’t _not_ enjoying himself? I don’t think he’s capable of enjoying anything. Maybe he was tired? I don’t…I don’t know.”

He stopped himself before he slipped too deep in his own rambling. He still wasn’t sure about Seung-gil, where they stood, what the quiet man might be feeling toward him, if anything other than the neutral state he constantly expressed. He’d bothered coming to see Phichit today and he’d paid far too much for the most simple of services, but he’d acted so nonchalant and void of feeling. Like he didn’t want to be anywhere and just did the date and the visit to pass the time.

It kind of made Phichit feel like he’d been an obstacle in the way of something productive. He had no reason to feel like that, especially since Seung-gil had gone out of his way to see him again immediately after last night, but maybe that was all on a whim. Perhaps this was a one-time game before driving off in his fancy car back to whatever fancy job had him wearing a perfectly tailored suit until 8 P.M. Never to see Phichit again.

Wow, he was frustrated.

“Hey.”

Phichit’s head snapped up and he was met with the concerned eyes of his friend who’d managed to sit up and had turned to face him. Yuuri looked guilty and concerned and Phichit gave him a smile, to show all was fine in the world. His oily hands were sitting limp on top of the bed, and he felt the need to do something with them, so he wiped them off on the towel he’d brought.

“He was weird,” he concluded and Yuuri burst into laughter.

Very anti-climactic. Very unlike him.

“Weird.”

Phichit gave a lopsided grin. “I mean, I’m not being rude. But he was just…quiet. But he answered my questions? I don’t even know if he understands jokes though because everything was serious to him. But not dead kind of serious, just, not funny. Nothing was funny to him. Everything was nothing to him. That doesn’t even make sense!”

“But you finished the date last night,” Yuuri mused.

“Yeah. Surprise.”

“And he showed up today, stuck around for a massage, and…”

Yuuri trailed off and Phichit didn’t know how he should’ve filled in the gap. He merely shrugged and reached for his friend’s hand to work at his palms. Yuuri used his hands a lot, so Phichit always found tension there that needed to be rubbed into putty.

“…And he dressed nice? Not today, he was toned down today. But last night…wow.”

There was another eruption of laughter from Yuuri who gently toed at Phichit’s leg. Phichit moved onto Yuuri’s other hand, his quirked smile still plastered on his face. He had no idea how to get it off, not with weird feelings still flitting about in his chest.

“Do you like him?” Yuuri ventured.

Phichit put a pause on the thumb rub to Yuuri’s palm, mouth gaping in confusion at the question. Like? He hadn’t liked anyone in a long time and Seung-gil was so _different_ and _uninteresting_ that he wasn’t certain he could like him. He was a nice guy but _like_?

“We’re too…opposite. Not even. I’m over here,” he motioned to one corner of the massage space, “And he’s off at sea. No correlation. No connection. We’re not even on the same rainbow, the same color wheel, the same spectrum of people.”

Yuuri hummed at that, the doubt obvious. Phichit sputtered.

“I’m serious! I don’t even…I don’t even know _how_ I sat through that entire date. And then him showing up here this morning? I just…it’s so odd. He’s odd. But not in a bad way? But not good? He’s just…I mean, are people like that? If you’d actually _met_ him you’d _know_!”

“You sat through the entire date,” Yuuri repeated, eyes mischievous. Phichit hated nothing more than when the tables turned and Yuuri was the one cracking the humor.

He huffed and set Yuuri’s hand down before crawling onto the massage bed behind his friend. He pulled Yuuri into position, wrapping his arms around him and turning his body until he was met with a successful series of cracks and helpless yelps.

“I don’t know why but I actually expected something from him. Nobody can be that _blah_ and _nothing_. It’s impossible! Yet, there he is! Existing!”

“Are you mad!? H-hold on!” Yuuri gasped as Phichit slid his arms around him at a different angle and bent his body over Yuuri’s. Another cacophony of crackling. The sweetest music to his ears.

“I’m not mad. I just…” Phichit paused, wondering why he suddenly felt so hot. He lowered his cheek to Yuuri’s shoulder and sighed, arms going limp. He felt his friend reach back to pat his head and he groaned. “I don’t like him but he’s so boring and uncaring of how boring he is that I’m interested. I want to know what boring people like him do every day, if they can handle their plainness. He has nice clothes and a nice car and he’s got money but he’s incredibly devoid of life. He’s just passing on through. A wealthy ghost. What if he _is_ a ghost?”

He gasped.

“You’re sounding a bit harsh,” Yuuri said and slid off the bed. He pulled his shirt back on, the oil on his back mostly dry. Phichit forced himself to get down as well so he could grab a hot towel to wipe at his friend’s hands.

“I’m not trying to be mean or critical,” he countered and disappeared through the curtains. He was glad he’d left a rolled towel in the warmer for Yuuri and he passed it between his hands like it was a potato fresh from the oven while hurriedly making his way back before he burned himself. “I’m just curious.”

He shook the towel out to rid it of steam, then wiped at Yuuri’s arms and hands before cleaning up his own. Yuuri had already slid his shoes on by then and had been here so many times that the post-massage instructions weren’t necessary.

Phichit didn’t want him to leave yet. His mind felt too full and he backtracked through the words he’d said since the moment his friend stepped through the doors, repeating them over and over, trying to make sense of his heavy thoughts. It wasn’t even a serious matter. Seung-gil wasn’t a bad guy out to destroy his life, but Phichit was stumped at the intrigue he held over an awkward date with a lifeless guy. And then there was a massage session deprived of any meaningful conversation.

What had he learned about Seung-gil today other than the nice car?

“Do you want to see him again?” Yuuri asked as he shouldered his bag and unzipped a pocket to retrieve his phone. He also took out his wallet and Phichit huffed again at the sight of it.

“If you seriously hand me money in the form of cash or card, I will scream,” he warned. He’d done it plenty of times before, regardless of any customers trying to relax on the other beds.

Yuuri rolled his eyes to the ceiling before tucking the wallet away, then tapped on his phone before turning the screen to Phichit. It was a number with a single name. Seung-gil.

Phichit gawked. “No!”

Yuuri clicked his tongue. “You don’t want his digits yet you rambled so much about him just now. I’ve never seen you confused over a ‘boring’ guy. Usually you brush them off and ask me to find someone with ‘more pep’ or ‘less _blah_ ,’ as you like to say.”

Phichit turned away from the phone and marched out of the space. He headed toward the front counter and sat on the seat behind it, glaring as Yuuri leaned over and tauntingly held his phone out again.

“I’m going to slap that thing away and I hope the screen shatters,” Phichit growled. He was being childish, he knew, but he didn’t want to give in. What was he going to do with the phone number of a guy whose texts were probably one-word answers, too?

“Be serious. There’s gotta be _some_ reason you’re still thinking of him right now,” Yuuri said, sounding too smug, “You teased me all the time about Viktor. I’m returning the favor.”

“It’s called payback. This is not a favor,” Phichit griped. He picked up the phone he’d left  on the counter, attached to the mini sound system of the salon, and opened his contact list. “I’ll just keep it so you’ll stop bothering me.”

“Tell yourself whatever you want. Maybe you can text him and then you’ll find out what you like about him.”

“I don’t like him! I only want to know how a good-looking guy can have such a nonexistent personality. It doesn’t make sense and I bet it’s because he has a bunch of dark secrets that make him worth getting to know,” Phichit blurted, almost in a single breath. He typed out the number and saved it as a new contact, putting it under ‘blah man.’

“Which means you’ll get to know him?” Yuuri offered. He was having far too much fun with this, judging by the cheeky smile on his face. Yuuri was rarely cheeky and rarely teased, which made the situation unbearable.

Phichit set the phone down, not bothering to plug it back in, and changed the music back to the rushing waterfalls and bird talk. “I’m keeping it so that you stop shoving it at me. That is all.”

He could also be polite and thank Seung-gil for dinner and the the bountiful tip. He was upset at his perplexing emotions, but it wouldn’t stop him from using good manners. Besides, he could ask Seung-gil to come back for another appointment with his mom or dad.

Earlier, his mother had hopped about in excitement when she saw the receipt, and she’d probably bother him about not attempting to get Seung-gil to come back. He still hadn’t told her that he’d indirectly told Seung-gil not to return by recommending that he go somewhere else.

“Tell him to come back,” Yuuri offered.

Phichit dropped his head into his hands. “Stop reading my mind!”


	3. Electric Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, I am on a roll! Three chapters in less than a week! That's what happens when 1) you have time to write 2) you're writing for a ship you LOVE.
> 
> Thanks so far for the kudos and comments! And thanks, as always, for reading!

* * *

Another letter arrived at the shop from the landlord, providing details on the changes to be made in the next few months. They were losing the battle against the corporation that was planning to build a day spa chain in their location once they were evicted. Construction would begin in the next few weeks, and the time for the shop to be permanently closed was drawing nearer.

“We should relocate,” was Phichit’s first suggestion after his mother and father read the letter, “There are other places nearby, I’m sure someone is leasing.”

“They are expensive,” said his father.

“We don’t know that yet,” Phichit rebutted.

His mother simply shook her head and made her way back to the guest she’d been attending. Phichit listened to the scrape of the curtain closing and the whispered concern of the client who’d been faithful the last six years.

“We must smile! Never give up!” his mother reassured. She began to hum as she continued her session.

Phichit turned to his father who’d sat down at the counter to work through some bills. He knew of the debts his parents were struggling to pay off and he had no idea how to help.

“I’ll get another job. I’ll…I can get certified. Or I can just take commissions from people. I’ll post an ad, I’m sure I can get a lot of customers even without a certification. Most people don’t even care, they just want a good massage.”

“No time,” his father said quietly, “Even if we pay, we will still be run out. We do not own this place.”

“We have to do something!” Phichit pressed, “I’ll go look today. I’m _certain_ there’s something out there that we can find.”

“ _Ped_ …”

The nickname frustrated him to the point of scowling, but his father gave him a warning look that immediately cooled his simmering temper. After a few seconds of internal grooming to calm himself, he said with more control, “We can’t give up.”

He spun sharply and rushed to the door, swinging it open before his father could stop him with more words. He’d grown up with deep respect for both his parents’ work ethic, but the determination he’d witnessed in them had been waning in the last decade, and he felt disappointed at their weakened spirits. There was also underlying guilt for not being able to support them.

At some point, he decided that being upset at them more often was the appropriate action. He was too ashamed of himself for not going through with his own plans, for messing around in university, and for eventually dropping out once he rationalized that his parents needed him around more than he needed a costly degree.

They hadn’t asked for his help. The arguments had been daily with his parents telling him to get a degree and trying to persuade him that he should do something for himself. But Phichit was desperate for immediate results and confused about what he even wanted other than to see his family in the green.

It had been stupid. A mistake in hindsight, but he should’ve known. His school advisor warned him. Yuuri sent him positive messages and forced him into weekend study dates instead of going on real dates with Viktor.

It wasn’t that Phichit couldn’t get the grades. His GPA was the reason that everyone had fought for him to stay in school. But seeing his parents struggle, looking at his own debts increasing after each semester, nothing could convince him to stick around the last two semesters.

Now here he was, running down the block back home to get the car. It was the only one the Chulanonts owned, which was part of the reason his parents didn’t want to relocate the shop. Transportation might become an issue on the days where not all of them had appointments. As of now, any of them could reach the shop on foot in less than ten minutes.

If they did relocate, Phichit had already sworn to take the bus everywhere in the city even if it took him an hour just to get to the mall.

He hopped into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and reversed onto the street without checking if it was clear. Maybe he should’ve sat down to look up where leased space was available, but in times like this he just needed to drive. He needed to get going. He needed to see something other than this cramped neighborhood with the cracks in the sidewalk and on the streets.

It was a little after noon, which meant traffic would increase as people started crowding the roads in search of lunch. The thought of eating had Phichit’s stomach rolling. Thanks to the growing worry over his family situation, he was saving more money little-by-little by not going out to grab a bite.

The first leasing sign that he saw had him pulling a sharp right turn into the parking lot. The car behind him slammed on the horn for a solid five seconds, but Phichit had slid into an empty spot before realizing that someone had been angry at his impulsive decision.

He shut off the engine to save gas and turned in his seat to could catch sight of the phone number on the sign. He also made sure to check what other kinds of stores were in this plaza, not wanting any competition with his parents’ place.

A smoke shop, some kind of pizza place, an interior decoration boutique, and a nail salon. Close, but not a rival. There also seemed to be a separate store next door within the plaza that specialized in vacuums. He looked across the busy street to see if there was competition there, but he only saw a rundown motel and a gas station.

This was a perfect spot because his family’s place was ill-suited for the nicer locations in town. There had to be a balance, or the pressure of being on par with higher standards would further run them into debt.

He slid his phone out from his pocket, surprised the screen hadn’t cracked from how hard he’d thrown himself onto the driver’s seat, and he stared at the text message notification on the screen. He hadn’t even heard the alert.

Surprised flitted across his face.

Blah man.

His heart stopped as a single question slipped into his thoughts. How?

He backtracked to several days earlier, the second and last time he’d seen Seung-gil. Had he given the man his number? When? Had Seung-gil gotten ahold of his phone without him knowing, managed to unlock it so he could call himself to record the number, and put the device back in place before Phichit could notice? Was there a chance he’d even been separated that far from his phone for that long?

His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply to calm himself and he sent a quick reply to the innocuous ‘hey.’

‘how did you get my number’

He stared at the screen, waiting for another message from the blah man. Meanwhile, the heat in the car was building up so he turned it back on briefly just to roll down the window. He heard the pop from his phone and glared at the message.

‘Yuuri.’

Phichit let the irritation pass and opted to sigh before opening the conversation with his best friend. He quickly texted a question to him as well.

‘Why did you give him my number???’

He waited several minutes for a reply, but his impatience wore thin. Maybe Yuuri was busy at work. In the back of his mind though, Phichit reasoned that Yuuri should’ve felt his frustration through their invisible best friend mind connection and picked up the phone.

He returned to the conversation with Seung-gil and his thumbs flew over the virtual keyboard.

‘what do you want’

An immediate, ‘How are you?’

Proper punctuation, capital letters, an actual sentence. It made the situation more bothersome.

‘fine’

Seung-gil didn’t immediately start typing, and Phichit’s patience was too frazzled from the entire day’s events that he dialed his number instead and pressed the mobile device to his ear, listening to the ring. He crossed an arm over his torso and tapped his foot lightly on one of the pedals.

“Hello.”

Even on the phone with a simple greeting, Seung-gil sounded like he was simultaneously doing nothing of importance and not looking forward to anything worth his time.

“Why are you texting me?” Phichit huffed.

There was a pause, voices in the background, and Seung-gil speaking in Korean. It sounded like he was holding the phone away from his face, and then there was a rustle to signify he was paying attention again.

“I just wanted to check on you.”

There was absolutely no concern in his tone, yet Phichit couldn’t call the statement a lie. Certainly, everything Seung-gil ever said to him was true and from the bottom of his plain heart.

Phichit felt his irritation melt into confusion. “Why?”

He could almost see Seung-gil’s unfazed, slow blink.

“You haven’t texted me since I last saw you. Yuuri said he’d given you my number,” Seung-gil replied with an auditory shrug. There it was, Phichit was reading his behaviors from the tone in his voice. Or maybe he’d been so invested during their only two encounters that he was haunted by Seung-gil’s mannerism and imagining it.

“I’ve been busy,” came his faltered reply. It was a lie, but he doubted Seung-gil could tell. What did the other man even know about him?

“Oh.”

A car pulled up in the parking space beside Phichit and he felt an itch to roll the window up, as if this conversation had to be private. What would those passengers care though? They, two girls, were in a rush to get some pizza.

“Did I upset you?” Seung-gil asked. Something in his voice was different. Actual thought in his words and not that automated feeling Phichit kept getting during their minimal interactions.

He felt constricted and removed his seatbelt, wondering why he’d left it on until now.

“Why would I be upset?” he huffed and shifted in his seat to make himself more comfortable, “You haven’t done anything.” Literally.

“Oh.”

Another pause. The girls came back outside with a box of pizza. That was quick, or maybe they’d called ahead of time? Phichit deliberately turned his head away as they climbed into their car and backed out of the space. The isolation he felt in a car when the window was closed was completely broken by the half-way cracking of his window. It was peculiar.

“So? What did you want?” he asked, feeling the impatience kick back in.

He had no idea what he wanted Seung-gil to say, but there was a realization that he wanted something out of this situation. He didn’t want an empty phone conversation with an empty guy.

“Are you busy tonight?”

Phichit’s mouth dropped open, dried up, and his mind raced through his schedule for the day. Then he reminded himself that he didn’t really have a schedule, he just sat around waiting for people who felt like stopping by the shop. Then he wondered why he felt a sense of hope for what Seung-gil might say next.

“I guess,” he murmured.

“Let’s have dinner again.”

“Are you serious!?”

Phichit hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, and he struggled to cover up the awkward pause caused by his abrupt outburst.

“I mean, I just, really? You want to go on a second date with me?”

“Why not?”

Seung-gil sounded like he hadn’t been offended at all by Phichit’s accusing tone. There had been another shrug in his voice, smaller, but it didn’t make his request sound like he was just trying to pass the time. It was more like he didn’t see any issue with his proposal.

He honestly wanted to go on another date.

Phichit didn’t have an answer to the ‘why not,’ but he felt uncertainty at immediately saying yes. He hadn’t thought much on seeing Seung-gil again so soon. In less than a week, this would’ve been their third time meeting each other. He’d never done this with any of the people he’d dated in the last few months, barely seeing any of them more than one time.

Did he want to date Seung-gil seriously? Probably not.

Did he like the guy? Probably. Not.

Was he interested in the guy? Probably. Not. Or…

“Okay,” he decided and was caught between regret and intrigue. “But I don’t know if I can take the car out. We only have one car and—”

“I’ll pick you up.”

His chest fluttered.

“N-no. I can catch a ride! You know, Uber or whatever. Lyft. One of those.”

“I’ll pick you up. Is 7:00 okay?”

“H-hey! Don’t just decide on these things,” Phichit stammered, “I said I can get a ride. I’ll even take a bus!”

“That’s inconvenient. And if I pick you up, we’ll have more time together.”

What the hell?

“What do you want to eat?” Seung-gil continued. Obviously, he couldn’t hear the minor distress in Phichit’s tone, the absolute disoriented state his mind was in, the search for rationale behind this conversation.

It was no longer empty, that was for sure.

Phichit paused, wracking his brain for a response. His stomach was knotted, his legs were shaking up a storm, and his chest felt heavy.

“Pizza. But not the fancy kind. I want grease. Lots of it.”

A chuckle. His breath caught at the sound of it.

“Okay. Do you have anywhere in mind?” Seung-gil asked. There was confidence in his tone. He was smiling.

Maybe Seung-gil expressed himself more when he was faceless.

Phichit watched as a group of kids walked into the pizza parlor that the girls from earlier had gone into. This place wasn’t far from his home and as he thought more about it, he didn’t want to be too far from his neighborhood today. He still had to run the task of finding a new location for his family.

“Yes,” he said with certainty, “I’ll be at the shop at 7:00.”

* * *

His father was right, as always. The closest in price to the Chulanonts’ current rent was a shop of similar size that sat twenty-five minutes away. Twenty-five minutes in relatively good traffic. It wouldn’t work.

He returned the car home and decided not to go to the shop. He didn’t want to tell his parents about the lack of good positive news. They probably already knew anyway, and he didn’t want his failure rubbed into his face. Not that they would make him feel guilty. He already did that on his own.

He decided to use the computer at home to look up places that he might’ve missed. Sometimes there were places for rent outside of plazas, and maybe they were cheaper. He had no idea about real estate, only that it was getting more expensive every year, but he needed to do something other than sit idle.

Seung-gil would be at the shop in a couple of hours, and Phichit wanted to do as much research as possible before then. He also needed to set aside time to get ready because as much as he loved being comfortable, going out on a date in another oversized sweater and baggy pants was not acceptable. He didn’t mind doing it at home or at the shop, but a date was different. The least he could do was slide on some jeans with a graphic tee.

He wasn’t trying to impress Seung-gil. This was for his own image.

The search online was confusing because the idea that a site was trying to con him rested at the edge of his mind. He didn’t know much about contracts or the process of renting out commercial space, having only seen bits and pieces when observing his father at work, and he couldn’t afford to mess up and provide his parents with information that was either fake or led to a dead end.

He wrote down the information for a handful of promising locations, all within a twenty-minute drive or less—according to Maps but he’d have to test out the routes another day just to be sure—and then checked to see if he had time to make some calls.

A little over an hour. That was enough.

The first call was to a wrong number. The second was no longer in use. With dissatisfaction building up from his lengthy search that seemed to be running into the red, he dialed the third location. There were only two more after it.

Number three was twice as much was his parents were paying. Number four was on hold with another business that would probably sign, but they’d call back in a few weeks if it didn’t pull through. Phichit doubted it, but left his name and number regardless. He couldn’t take any chances.

Number five didn’t pick up but he was sure to leave a message. Maybe it was too late in the business day. He’d call again tomorrow.

With a sigh, he slid the notepad away and lay his head on the desk beside the keyboard. He could do some more searching, but he was certain he’d exhausted his resources for cheap enough and close enough places.

It seemed that if the family relocated, they’d have to compromise one of those factors, and times were tough.

His phone buzzed, releasing him from his circling thoughts, and he peeked at it from where he’d left it on the edge of the desk. His eyes widened, and he scooped it up to read the text message from Yuuri.

Suddenly, he recalled earlier in the day when he’d texted his friend, and in his rush around the area to focus on his crisis, he’d forgotten that he’d been expecting a reply.

‘Sorry, work was busy. I thought it’d be okay to give him your number.’

Phichit flopped onto the desk again, staring at the message. He wanted to say that it hadn’t been okay, but he’d agreed to go on a date with Seung-gil, so that sort of reply would be pointless. And a lie.

Deep inside, it had been very okay, and he’d been too much of a coward to make the first move and send a text.

He wasn’t going to tell Yuuri, though. Not yet. That would only result in something else being rubbed into his face and he didn’t want that. Maybe he’d say something in a week.

‘Thanks for that, friend,’ was all he texted back and Yuuri immediately replied with, ‘I’m sorry!!!!’

Phichit snorted and his face lit up with a tiny smile. No harm had been done and he couldn’t get mad at his best friend over something like this.

‘it’s okay i’ll live’

He questioned if he really would after tonight’s date and checked the time. He probably should start getting ready and decided to head to the bathroom for a shower. The date was casual, but he wasn’t about to have dinner with the day’s sweat sticking to him. Not that he sweated buckets, but it was the idea ingrained into him from childhood, to always be clean before going to important meetings. Or dates.

He chose a pair of black jeans with fashionably placed rips in them—he’d done it himself and his mother had freaked—and pulled a pastel pink shirt over his head. Quite mild compared to what he’d done with the last guy Yuuri had set him up on a date with.

Of course, he left his earrings in and didn’t bother covering the tattoo on his arm. Yuuri wasn’t here to stop him, so it didn’t matter what image he presented. Seung-gil would have to take it or leave it at this point.

After spritzing himself with the usual perfume, he tucked his wallet into his back pocket and went to retrieve his phone. There was another text from Yuuri, several, and he scrolled through them. His smile widened with each reply.

‘Did he text you? Call you?

I hope he’s not bothering you. I don’t think he’s the type.

Phichiiiiiit

Viktor wants to take you to lunch on Saturday so he can talk about Seung-gil. You know how he is. Nosy.

I’m nosy too of course.

PHICHIT TALK TO ME’

Phichit pocketed his phone instead of replying, wanting to keep Yuuri on edge for a bit longer. He was doing him a favor, as Yuuri liked to call it, by making him live with a few regrets and lots of suspense.

There was another buzz from his phone, and he rolled his eyes while checking to see what else Yuuri had to say.

‘I’m here.’

It was only 6:53. What was the rush?

“Chill, man,” Phichit muttered under his breath and rushed off to the door. Once his shoes were on, he was racing out and down the street to the shop.

The black Audi was parked exactly where it had been when Seung-gil last came by. The headlights were off, and nobody was inside.

Oh, great. Seung-gil had probably gone inside and now Phichit would have to face his parents and give an awkward introduction. Except his mother already knew who Seung-gil was and had probably gossiped about him to Phichit’s father.

Phichit could see them through the glass, Seung-gil in yet another tailored suit, standing straight and having what could’ve been a serious discussion with his parents, if it weren’t for Phichit’s mother giggling with a hand over her mouth and that familiar twinkle in her eyes.

All three of them noticed Phichit walking up to the door and turned to greet him, watching intensely as he stepped inside. There was that distinct scent of menthol in the air, and Thai music softly playing from the speaker. Usually, the shop was closed at this time and his parents just sat around for a bit longer to clean up or in case a friend stopped by.

“Peach, your friend is here!” his mother crooned, as if Phichit didn’t notice the slightly taller man with the finely combed hair and three-piece suit.

“Are you going to eat pizza in that?” was the only question he had. His mother clicked her tongue sharply at the rude remark.

He did his best to ignore the inquiring look on his father’s face and motioned to the door he’d kept open. “Let’s go.”

“ _Ped_ , that’s not a proper hello!” was his mother’s shrill chiding but he ignored that, too.

“We’re gonna have dinner. See you later,” he said, feeling nervous as he imagined what questions might be darting through his parents’ minds from that simple comment.

Seung-gil nodded to them, politely said his farewells, then followed Phichit outside to his car.

“Hello,” he greeted.

Unlike during their earlier conversation on the phone, the lack of expression was back, the tone in Seung-gil’s voice flat as ever.

“Hey. Nice suit,” Phichit returned, “I guess you don’t always work until 8:00.”

“Not tonight.”

The reply left wonderment to Phichit’s imagination at the underlying meaning. Seung-gil spoke so simply yet Phichit found himself overanalyzing every syllable that came out of his mouth.

When the car doors were unlocked, he climbed into the passenger seat and chose not to wave back to his parents who were watching them still from inside the shop. He wasn’t a little kid anymore being picked up for a birthday party.

He tried to suppress the outward amazement at the soft leather seats and elements of wood built into the doors and dashboard. The car was like a computer inside with all the buttons and dials, and there was even a screen that lit up.

“You are going to remove the jacket, at least. And tie. And vest. Unless you don’t mind getting sauce on your Dolce and Gabbana,” he teased.

Seung-gil put the car in reverse and Phichit realized it was manual transmission like the family car, except smoother. The car ran like melted butter.

“I think it’s Armani,” Seung-gil replied. Phichit felt an urge to scoff at the way he’d said it.

“You don’t even know what you’re wearing,” he muttered, “Do you even know what Armani is?”

There was no immediate reply. No snappy comment. No look of disapproval or annoyance. Seung-gil seemed to be concentrating more on the road.

“Clothes,” he finally said when they were about to pull onto the main road. He turned to Phichit, waiting for something.

There was an awkward beat as they stared at each other, and then Phichit whispered, “What?”

The left corner of Seung-gil’s mouth twitched, as if about to curve into a smile, but it remained in that passive, straight line. “You said you had somewhere in mind.”

Oh, yeah. Pizza.

Phichit cleared his throat and turned his eyes forward.

“Turn right. Take this main road for a few minutes. It’s not too far,” he instructed.

As smooth as velvet, they were off.

Seung-gil drove carefully, and it was drivers like him that had Phichit frowning all the time on the road when he was trying to get somewhere in a good mood. People with nice, sporty cars that stayed below the speed limit and seemed to have no idea where they were going.

At least Seung-gil used his blinkers to change lanes and didn’t tailgate people as if urging them to hurry up. Phichit hated that.

When they pulled up to the pizza shop, Phichit took a quick photo of the ‘for lease’ sign that he’d forgotten to get a number off earlier. He’d been in such a rush to get off the phone with Seung-gil and get on with his errand that he’d skipped this plaza altogether. He added a reminder on his phone to call tomorrow morning.

Seung-gil stepped out of the car and Phichit stared as he slid off his jacket, vest, and tie. He opened the backseat door on his side and tossed his things inside, reaching for the ends of his sleeves to take the cuff links out, too.

He was going all out with this dressing down.

Phichit turned his attention away when Seung-gil unbuttoned his shirt and began to roll up his sleeves. He’d have plenty of time to stare tonight. Not that he planned on staring, but it would be a waste not to give himself a better peek.

Seung-gil locked up the car and stepped onto the walkway, turning to wait for Phichit to catch up. What a pleasant gesture, even if he still looked stoic and less than thrilled to be at a hole-in-the-wall parlor. He’d asked and had agreed to go along with it.

“What toppings do you like?” Phichit asked as he reached for the door.

Seung-gil got a hand on it first and pulled it open for him, and they had that hesitant shuffling of trying to get the other to enter first. Phichit ended up walking in ahead just to end the blundering, and he led the way to the counter.

The parlor wasn’t busy inside and there was space for them to sit down and eat. The lights were dimmed, giving the place more of a dingy appearance than trying to set the mood.

“I don’t really eat pizza often, so I have whatever is given to me,” Seung-gil said behind him.

He was standing a bit close and Phichit tried not to shiver at the sound of his low voice so close to his ear. Someone was in line before them, so he took a moment to glance through the glass partition at the various pizzas sitting warm and ready to be served.

“I like everything on mine,” Phichit said and pointed at a pie covered in an assortment of vegetables and meat.

He turned to Seung-gil and was surprised to see an actual expression on his face. Disgust.

“What? Too greasy?” he asked, feeling the displeasure set in that they might not be eating here after all. He wasn’t so petty that he’d complain if Seung-gil wanted to go elsewhere, but he was in the mood for pizza.

“I’ll eat that one,” Seung-gil said, dodging the questions. He pointed at a pie sitting beside Phichit’s choice, heavily covered in meat and cheese.

“Mm, good choice! I like that kind, too, but I should just get one slice today,” Phichit said, feeling good again now that it was clear they’d be staying.

They were next in line, so he stepped up and placed the order. The shop had garlic bread too, the kind covered in chopped garlic for that authentic flavor. He glanced at Seung-gil and asked him if he wanted a basket, not caring that this was a date and, according to Yuuri, garlic was on the no-no list. He’d eat whatever he wanted and not care how he smelled.

“Go ahead,” Seung-gil said and reached for his wallet before Phichit could take out his.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it. I can afford pizza,” he argued, but Seung-gil already had his card out and was handing it over.

He sighed and grudgingly thanked him before taking their number and tray of sliced pizza and leading the way to a table.

When they were seated, he set his wallet and phone on the cramped table beside the plates to make himself more comfortable, and Seung-gil looked at him with yet another expression. Worry.

“Are you upset when I pay?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

Wow. So he was capable of emotions during face-to-face interactions.

Phichit didn’t hold grudges over little things like this and offered a smile. “I wouldn’t say upset. You just don’t have to every single time.”

Every single time.

There would be more times?

“I asked you out, so of course I’ll pay,” Seung-gil reasoned.

He sat with his back straight and hands on either side of his plate of greasy pizza drowning in meat. Even though he’d dressed himself down and even tousled his hair to loosen it up—Phichit had to admit, it was a good look on him—he still had a distinct poise that made his presence displaced.

“Relax,” Phichit said quietly and leaned back in his seat to model what he meant, “You look stressed sitting like that. This isn’t a meeting. I’m not even wearing long sleeves.”

He picked up his slice of pizza and took a bite, catching Seung-gil’s brief glance at the tattoo on his arm. Again.

He decided now was a good time to bring it up.

While chewing and swallowing, he set the slice back down and wiped his fingers on a napkin so he could push his sleeve up to his shoulder. Seung-gil’s eyes were drawn to the freely exposed bicep and the deep black and gray lines etched permanently into the skin.

“Do you like it? You keep looking at it,” Phichit said directly.

Seung-gil’s eyes passed over it, studying the image as he took a small bite out of his own slice of pizza.

“What is it?” he asked after chewing and swallowing, “I mean, I can see what it is, but what does it mean?”

Phichit’s grin widened and he leaned forward so Seung-gil could have a better look. He decided that he liked this kind of attention from the other man, this scrutiny of something he was proud of and enjoyed most about himself.

“It’s just an image I made up based off a book I read when I was a kid,” he explained, “About two friends. Betrayal. Lies. That kind of adolescent fun stuff. This one,” he points at the skeleton of an animal head being cradled by a person, “Was deceitful about who he really was and died because of it. It’s a sad scene toward the end. Lots of regrets. I think I actually cried!”

He chuckled at the memory of his favorite fantasy book from middle school. The ending was quite chilling, since the living friend held onto the head of the other until it wasted away into nothing but bone. Phichit remembered not wanting his parents to find out about the book, since they’d probably think it too morbid for their delicate son. If only they knew.

The tattoo had come about when he realized he wanted to get some ink and he was struggling to find a good design for his first one. There were plenty of good artists in Los Angeles, and when one of them managed to conjure up the exact image he saw in his mind, he knew he needed to have it.

He saved up a lot of money to get this amount of detail and work done. Although it had cost quite a bit, and his parents still frowned at the thought of his skin baring a permanent mark, he had no regrets.

Seung-gil opened his mouth to speak at the same moment that a server came over with the garlic bread basket.

“Need anything else?” she asked and walked away when given a no.

“Ah, drinks!” Phichit mentioned after tearing a piece of garlic bread off and shoving it in his mouth.

“I’ll get it for you,” Seung-gil offered, already halfway standing up with his wallet in hand. The guy was quick to spend money.

Phichit waved a hand at him and pointed at a jug sitting beside a soda machine behind Seung-gil.

“I just want water. I’m not big on soda anyway,” he said and watched as Seung-gil got up to retrieve some. How kind.

He came back with two glasses of water and sat them down on the leftover space on the table. Phichit wondered why they were so small when the plates were rather big, but he guessed that most people who came to a place like this didn’t care about space. They just wanted a quick bite.

“Do you like your food?” he asked after glancing at the single bite Seung-gil took of his slice.

On cue, the other man picked it up and took another. He gave a curt nod and Phichit couldn’t help but laugh.

“You don’t have to force it,” he offered and picked a mushroom off his own slice, popping it into his mouth.

“I love meat,” came the flat answer. The honesty in the words combined with the monotone voice made Phichit grin wider than he ever had in his present. Seung-gil did not belong here and it was cute.

Well, not cute but, okay, cute.

Why was his inability to express himself with words and facial expressions and lack of excitement over anything so unbearably _precious_?

“Here.”

Phichit plucked a bell pepper off and placed it on Seung-gil’s slice. There was a second of silence as they both stared at it, waiting, and then Seung-gil brushed it off and shook his head.

“No.”

A snort, followed by laughter. Phichit covered his mouth, apologizing with his eyes for suddenly laughing, but he couldn’t help it with how _adorable_ and _child-like_ the response had been.

Then, he remembered their first date, how Seung-gil had ordered all those vegetables for the table, yet didn’t eat a single piece. They’d all been for Phichit, because Phichit wanted to eat them. And now, he was refusing a tiny bell pepper.

Phichit’s eyes lit up as he pieced it all together, and Seung-gil looked away. Another expression. Embarrassment.

“You hate vegetables!” Phichit gasped, “You’re like a little kid. Come on, it won’t kill you.”

He playfully pushed the pepper back onto Seung-gil’s slice and felt a spark of discomfort when his wrist was grabbed. Seung-gil’s palm was warm, a little sweaty, and his grip was rather tight given the lighthearted situation.

Phichit cleared his throat and tugged himself free, going for another piece of garlic bread.

“I’m just kidding,” he reassured, “It’s just, just, I don’t know how to say it. It’s kind of cute that you don’t like eating vegetables. And I just realized it now even after you piled up nothing but meat onto your plate at the barbecue!”

He continued smiling, feeling the tension that he might’ve pissed Seung-gil off fading away. He picked up the pepper and popped it into his mouth, chewing it and making sounds of delight.

The disgust was back on Seung-gil’s face and he stared at the spot where the innocent, green veggie had lay before tentatively taking another bite. Some sauce got on his cheek and he didn’t seem to notice. Phichit didn’t have the heart to tell him. Not yet.

It was so cute.

He stopped, mid-chew, and backtracked.

Oh.

Oh no.


	4. Cerulean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> k

* * *

When Seung-gil dropped Phichit off at the shop—he didn’t want him driving the extra block to his home around the corner since that would reveal where he lived—Phichit hopped out of the car as if it were on fire and shut the door after a clipped goodbye. His stomach had a slight ache from shoving so many garlic knots into it since Seung-gil only ate one, and he was feeling flushed from staring at Seung-gil’s face for over an hour and realizing that he had a nice set of lips.

Seung-gil also had a nice face, not too sharp, not too round, and his thick brows made Phichit jealous. There was also his nose, pert and with a strong bridge that Phichit also envied.

He silently cursed these plaguing thoughts and wanted to run home, but that would aggravate his stomach further and Seung-gil would see that he was close enough to walk. Phichit told him that he’d asked his parents to pick him up at the shop, and thankfully Seung-gil didn’t question it. Maybe he was that dense, or maybe he realized that he never wanted to see Phichit again so it didn’t matter how he got home.

Or perhaps, he had a hunch that Phichit lived close enough to walk, and he was just waiting for Phichit to start the journey home so that he could follow him. Phichit had been stalked before, and he did everything in his power to prevent a repeat.

He watched as Seung-gil pulled out onto the main road and waited for the car to disappear completely out of sight before he turned and began a steady jog back home. A stitch began to build in his side and he slowed down to a walk when he believed himself to be safe. He checked behind him for a looming black Audi, just to make sure.

When he arrived home, his parents were sitting in the merged living room and kitchen, watching one of those Thai dramas that kept them both on their toes and awake for most of the night. He barely had a chance to shut the door before several worried and accusing questions were thrown at him.

“Hi. Super full. Gonna go to bed. Night!” he blurted in a single mumble and raced off to his room before they could stop him.

The doors in the apartment didn’t have locks on them since the family knew nothing of personal space, but Phichit had installed a slide bolt when he was in high school to give himself some form of privacy. His mother had chastised him about it at the time, but he’d never been forced to remove it and there were times when it came in handy.

He set his keys and phone on the bedside table and checked for any notifications on his screen in case he'd missed something during the hasty journey home. Every alert was for the various social media platforms he used, nothing that needed his attention immediately, so he grabbed some clothes for sleep and went to the bathroom to change and wash up. Sitting around in that pizza shop left him feeling greasy.

As soon as he bent over the sink and shut his eyes while wetting his face, he felt exhaustion tug at him. He was tired from all the driving he’d done today, and his dinner date managed to suck the rest of whatever energy reserves he had left.

Once he pat his face dry and his moisturizer was rubbed into his skin, he padded back to his bedroom. There was no sound from his parents except the low volume of the television, but he closed the door and locked it nevertheless. Sometimes he needed to close himself off from the rest of the world.

He left the lights on, intending to shut them off right before sleeping, and crawled under his bedsheets. Striped green and blue and faded from years of use.

With one arm tucked under his head, he clicked and scrolled through the apps on his phone, trying to dissociate from the day’s events.

Tomorrow, he would search for more rental spaces. Maybe he could talk with his parents again about moving the shop elsewhere. They could look at budgeting, to see if maybe they could afford something a little more expensive.

He could also look at getting certified, which would expand the amount of services he could do. For now, his customers were family friends who just happened to “visit,” and he just so happened to give them a massage, after which they happened to offer money.

However, if the shop moved too far away, that meant possibly losing their current, long-standing clientele. That was another reason his parents didn’t want to move. Moving meant starting over from step one and that wasn’t easy to do when there was already competition in the area. The reason the Chulanont shop was still standing in that barren plaza was because they’d been in the neighborhood for so long and most people didn’t like switching once they found a place they liked. Plus, they were cheap. In a more expensive area, their prices would need to rise to be on par with shops of similar services.

He was tempted to start the search again for a lease, but he refrained. Relaxation and unplugging from his everyday responsibilities was the key to his sanity with this situation. He opted to stick with something peaceful like commenting on various photos of his friends. One of the closer ones, Guang Hong, had gone home to China, and the pictures he had from his trip were in the range of hilarious to breathtaking.

In the middle of writing a comment, Phichit received a text message and blinked in surprise at the sender.

‘Thank you for tonight. Sleep well.’

Had ‘blah man’ already arrived home?

It seemed a bit quick, though Phichit didn’t know where he lived, only that it was north. Obviously, someone with Seung-gil’s status and presence would live around the richer neighborhoods of L.A. Perhaps he’d mentioned where he resided and Phichit missed it.

For a few minutes, he stared at the message, unsure of how to respond. He tapped out a few replies, deleting them one after the other, and wondered if Seung-gil was impatiently staring at the notification on the screen that said he was still in the midst of typing.

‘pizza was good but my stomach is aching from all the food. eat more next time,’ he finally decided.

Next time. There’d be a next time.

Phichit tapped ‘send’ and waited. Seung-gil didn’t immediately begin typing, and he started to hate how desperate he was to get an answer. Even a ‘k’ would be fine with him.

He returned to the comment he’d been typing and deleted it, deciding to send his friend a direct message instead. He wrote that they should hang out soon so they could talk about his trip. Phichit had been invited to go but he didn’t have the money to be traveling abroad. He could hardly travel out of the city, especially now that his parents were struggling.

Someday, he kept telling himself, though he was certain it would never come. ‘Someday’ was what he said to keep his spirits up when his family was on the verge of being evicted. ‘Someday’ kept his chin up and a smile on his face even when he wanted to sit in the dark in his room and just check out from reality. ‘Someday’ was a mantra when he left another date or blocked another person from contacting him.

In the middle of reading a rather lengthy and excited paragraph from his friend, he received another text from Seung-gil and opened it immediately.

‘Sorry, I was driving. I’m home now. If it’s all right, I would like to see you again.’

Phichit grinned at the formal text. Or maybe it seemed formal because he didn’t bother using capital leathers and punctuation. If people understood his overall message, he didn’t see a point in dragging out the most casual form of conversation with unnecessary words and correct spelling.

He decided to wait a bit instead of typing immediately. He didn’t want to give the image that he was enthusiastic about another date. Even though his mind was telling him to automatically reject Seung-gil, another part of him wanted to agree. It was the part that called Seung-gil cute, the part that convinced him to stay during that first date and agreed to a second one.

Just for the heck of it.

Except not.

‘k’

Why was someone like Seung-gil—who obviously lived in a nicer place, could afford a nice car, and wore nice suits—so interested in seeing him? He’d said that he didn’t date often. Was his type rugged, sweat pants, tatted, pierced, and poor? Phichit was all that and more on a daily basis.

‘I will text you when I have figured out my schedule.’

‘k’

Phichit’s mouth curved at one corner into his signature lopsided, sneaky grin. He couldn’t help but fire off that one letter as a reply to the longer, detailed responses.

‘I would like to see you again next week, on the weekend, if that’s fine,’ Seung-gil continued, ‘I might need to ask my secretary to open up a day for us’

Oh, he had a secretary. He also typed quite fast. And he used 'us.' There was an 'us' now.

‘u work weekends?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘ok with me’

‘Thank you. I will remain in contact. Have a wonderful night, Phichit.’

Texting with Seung-gil felt like a transaction, and Phichit was left wondering what he did for work. The topic of Seung-gil’s job and position never came up in conversation, so Phichit didn’t have a chance to go down that avenue. Maybe Yuuri knew, since Viktor had occasionally worked with Seung-gil. Those two told each other everything.

Phichit was reminded to send Yuuri a quick text, but not before texting Seung-gil a final ‘gnight.’

He opened his chat box with Yuuri.

‘lunch tomorrow? pls im dying’

Yuuri didn’t immediately start a reply—he was probably making out with Viktor—so Phichit returned to his chat with Guang Hong. He skimmed through the lengthy message, then sent several mixed emojis. He was feeling a lot of things right now, but Guang Hong might think the little faces were simple reactione to the trip and photos.

They talked for several more minutes, making vague plans about meeting again in the oncoming weeks, and then they bid each other good night. One of them had to drive through early morning L.A. traffic and it wasn’t Phichit.

After checking through his feed once more, he decided he was tired enough for bed. At that moment, his phone buzzed with a text from Yuuri.

‘With Viktor?’

‘yes pls tell him its an emergency’

Phichit wanted to talk to Viktor about Seung-gil, wanted to figure out as much about him as possible. He couldn’t just ask the guy. What fun was dating when you didn’t snoop a little via other sources? Not that he was a stalker or trying to go behind anyone’s back. He was just curious, and suddenly asking Seung-gil right now after saying good night seemed out of the question. It gave off that enthusiastic, needy feeling that he was avoiding.

‘He says okay. But it’ll have to be a little late since he’s doing a morning shoot.’

‘i will eat lunch at 5pm if need be’

‘That’s dinner.’

‘not if i didn’t eat before’

‘EAT!!’

He and Yuuri went back and forth about his terrible eating habits, though Yuuri wasn’t any better. For the last few months, he’d been living off either fast food or microwaveable food. It seemed he and Viktor had no time for proper cooking and hot, homecooked meals.

Back when they were in school and life was slower paced and easy, Phichit and Yuuri would cook for one another. They took better care of one another, made sure the other ate, made sure the other slept at a reasonable hour, made sure that coffee didn’t replace water.

‘i ate way too much for dinner. im bloated. im a garlic knot greasy pizza sponge’

‘That sounds terrible.’

‘it feels terrible. i wasn’t kidding when i said im dying’

Phichit realized he’d been on the verge of mentioning his date, but he felt that that conversation shouldn’t be held over text messaging. He’d end up with Yuuri calling him and chastising him for not saying anything sooner. That could wait until tomorrow, even if the words were at the tips of his thumbs.

After a little more back-and-forth teasing, Yuuri finally said that he was off to bed. Phichit bid him good night, telling him to extend the message to his boyfriend, and then he decided to turn in as well. The exhaustion was catching up and his eyes were beginning to droop.

He plugged his phone into the wall charger and got up to turn off the lights. Once the covers were over him and he curled up against his pillow, he knocked out immediately, the rush of the day finally catching up.

* * *

 

In the morning, he woke up feeling groggy. He went to the kitchen to chug some water and filled a large bowl with cereal and milk. It was a popcorn bowl, but he felt like eating a lot. Even after last night, he felt empty even though his stomach was still rounded from being stuffed.

He’d managed to drink all the milk and eat all the cereal, even though most of it turned soggy, and had immediate regrets. He felt sick and his body cursed itself for becoming stuffed two meals in a row. He didn't bother apologizing. At least he wouldn’t go hungry for a while.

While he digested, he sat at the computer and searched for more properties. His parents were already at the shop and he planned to talk with them once he had actual, concrete information worth sharing. Anytime he came to them with vague answers, he'd only be turned away and his 'research' would be disregarded.

He called several more numbers, received the bad news of spots being reserved or priced higher than what his family could hope to afford, and then he went out to do more driving.

His father would get mad at him for using the gas, but it wasn’t as if his parents needed to drive that often or that far away. Work was within walking distance and the grocery store was two blocks away. Phichit didn’t know where else they might go, except his father’s rare home visits for private massage sessions.

After two hours of driving, parking, taking photos, and calling numbers, he returned home empty-handed and with heavier disappointments. He chose to lock himself in his room and flopped onto his bed, curling around a pillow that was shaped like a hedgehog. It even had tufts of fur that he brushed his cheek against as he sought comfort.

It was already past noon, but he ignored the feeling of hunger, wishing to wait for lunch with his friend.

He spent some time scrolling aimlessly through his various social media accounts. At some point, he started thinking about Seung-gil again. There was no text since last night, which was strange. Phichit was used to his dates hitting him up endlessly, pretending they were interested. He knew what they wanted and cut connection with them as soon as he could.

There was no telling how many blocked contacts he had on his phone and on the dating app that he’d deleted once Yuuri started setting up blind dates for him. He'd considered re-downloading the app, but then he remembered how much of a hassle he’d been faced with.

Some ex-dates were so desperate to crawl into his pants that they tried contacting him using other phones. It made him wary of picking up or replying to a message unless he recognized the number or a name popped up on his screen.

Seung-gil’s name hadn’t come up all day. Phichit took that moment to change ‘blah man’ to his actual name, and his fingers hovered over the keyboard, about to type out a greeting.

‘Hey,’ he wanted to say, ‘Have a great day!’

He would’ve sent it followed by countless, happy emojis. Would’ve, but he didn’t. Not even a simple 'hi.' And here he was, waiting for Seung-gil to send him a greeting.

When Yuuri texted him an address and time for their late lunch with Viktor, Phichit hopped off his bed and changed out of his baggy clothes. He picked a more conservative look than the usual, opting for a slim pair of jeans without holes and a long-sleeve shirt that he pushed up to his elbows. The piercings remained, as always, but he kept his tats covered and left his hair straight and clean of spray.

With everything set, Phichit called his dad to let him know he’d be out having a late lunch and taking the car. He was already putting the address into his maps app and pulling out of the driveway when he received a simple ‘k but watch the gas.’

His father understood the importance of brevity with texts.

When Phichit arrived at the restaurant, he stared at the building for a few seconds and shook his head with a sigh. Yuuri and Viktor were fancy whenever they went out to lunch. To Phichit, fancy meant eating a balanced meal instead of driving up to a window. He couldn’t recall the last time he ate fancy.

The world’s most loving couple always ordered a salad, bread, and soup before the actual entrees came out. They also ordered one dish to share and tended to eat off the same plate. Phichit was certain that at home, they either fed one another or ate with one set of utensils. He would say that they only owned one fork, one spoon, and one knife, but that would be a lie because he’d eaten at their home before. They had at least three sets.

Today, he planned to order individually. Even after last night’s greasy food extravaganza and the extra-large bowl of cereal that might still be going through his system, he craved more.

When he stepped inside the restaurant front, he walked up to the counter, taking note of the flower decorations and the hostess’ perfectly ironed clothes.

“I’m meeting with my friends,” he said and even straightened his back to fit in with the setting.

“Go right ahead,” the hostess said with a smile. She made eye contact. Fancy.

Phichit thanked her and made his way through the dining area, glancing around for Viktor’s hair. It always stuck out no matter where they want, considering it was practically white. From the corner of his eye, he spotted someone waving and looked in that direction, seeing Yuuri’s bright smile.

“It’s a bit crowded,” Phichit noted when he got to the table. Crowded meant almost half-full in places like this. He was accustomed to stopping for take-out or sitting as far as possible from one or two other people.

Their table was tucked in the corner and round, which took away the awkwardness of figuring out where he should sit. Yuuri always sat across from Viktor instead of at his side whenever Phichit was around, which was thoughtful of him. Phichit was certain that in a group setting, he’d want to sit next to his boyfriend.

Not that he’d ever have the chance.

“I guess everyone’s having a late lunch,” Viktor said as he flipped through the menu. He looked up at Phichit and smiled in greeting, “Long time no see.”

Phichit thought for a second. “Is it? The last time I saw you was…”

“A month ago. I believe at someone’s birthday dinner,” Viktor replied. He set his menu down and turned his gaze to Yuuri, “I’ll order a salad and some soup for the table.”

Predictable. Especially that soft, warmth in his eyes and the way he reached for Yuuri’s hand. Technically, they were still sitting next to one another, and they always took every possible opportunity to touch. If this was dinner and the lighting was darker, Viktor would’ve probably kissed Yuuri’s hand after stroking it incessantly with his thumb.

Yuuri nodded to him and turned his attention to Phichit. He folded his menu and handed it to Viktor.

“You don’t look like you’re dying,” he mused.

Phichit sighed and leaned forward in his seat, resting his forearms on the table. If the tablecloth was the type for coloring, he’d be scribbling all over it. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a kid-friendly restaurant.

“I guess? I don’t know. I just have a lot to talk about,” he muttered.

He didn’t offer more than that so Yuuri pressed on.

“Are you okay?” he asked with genuine worry.

Phichit traced the edge of his menu and his eyes roamed the choices of sandwiches. He was in the mood for one, the meatiest, beefiest of all. Medium rare and exploding with fillings. Ah, the place had a burger. Perfect.

“You know what it’s about,” he murmured without making eye contact.

The soup and salad were brought over, and they placed their main orders. Phichit made sure to order crispy, salty fries with his giant burger. And extra onions. As expected, Yuuri ordered something for him and Viktor to share.

Once the server walked off, Viktor turned to Phichit and said, “Seung-gil?”

Phichit nodded, not surprised. Viktor was sharp, and Yuuri had probably been sharing with him bits of what Phichit had told him, which was okay. Viktor was a comrade now, not someone to be wary of just in case he decided to break Yuuri’s heart. They were well past that stage of ‘you’re dating my friend so watch yourself.’

When the waiter brought over a glass of water for him, he sipped at it and cupped his chin in his hands. He’d been tempted to order something strong, but he didn’t feel like paying fifteen dollars for a glass of alcohol.

“I saw him last night,” he said with as little care as he could.

Yuuri gasped. “Again? Did you go on a date? You didn’t tell me! What happened? Did he say anything strange?”

Phichit chuckled and cast a playful grin at his friend. Leave it to Yuuri to ramble. It was something they had in common.

“Yes, again. Yes, date. No, I didn’t tell you. We ate pizza. He didn’t say much, as usual.”

He thought for a second about the vegetable situation and Seung-gil’s childish disgust. There was also the dabbing of sauce on his cheek that Phichit never told him about.

“He’s kind of cute,” he blurted aloud and covered his face with his hands when Yuuri gasped again, “I mean! He’s, just, the way he is. He’s not outwardly cute, more like his gestures? He was grossed out by vegetables and made these faces and he had sauce on his face and I didn’t tell him because it was like he was a kid! A kid in a nice suit who pays for everything and drives an amazing car!”

He lowered his head to the table as Yuuri butted in with, “You got into his car!?”

“What kind of car?” Viktor chimed in.

Friend or not, sometimes Phichit forgot that Viktor was there. He tended to simply listen to their conversations while caressing Yuuri’s hand.

“A nice car,” Phichit replied softly, “An Audi with all this leather and wood inside. Wood! And it doesn’t look like cheap, glossy wood that’s probably actually plastic. It’s like sanded, soft wood, and there are all these buttons. He drives a robot!”

Viktor laughed and hummed to himself as he picked up his beer with his free hand. No matter what time of day it was, Viktor always found a reason to drink when out with friends. Phichit wished to join him.

“I had no idea he had one,” Viktor mused.

“He said it was borrowed. What does that mean? Like, he rented it?” Phichit threw out.

“I don’t think he’d rent a car just for a date,” Yuuri said, with concern etched on his face, as if he didn’t believe himself.

“He had it the previous day. Same car,” Phichit said with his own disbelief.

When Viktor and Yuuri started eating their soup and salad—they’d even let go of each other—Phichit was reminded that there was food on the table. He wanted to save room for his burger and fries, so he only took a bit of salad and soup for his share.

He looked to Yuuri and saw that his best friend was deep in thought, brows bunched together. He figured that he’d need a moment to think about the fact that there had been a second date with someone Phichit had whined about a couple of days earlier.

Viktor shook his head at Phichit’s questioning and sipped at a spoonful of soup. “He mentioned once, very briefly, that he’s forced to drive the Audi to work. And other places. His family wants him to look nice all the time. I think he owns something much cheaper though. And old. But I’ve never seen it.”

It all sounded strange to Phichit. Who wouldn’t want to drive a nice car? He’d never have to be forced to drive anything so luxurious. Sitting in it alone had been a new experience that he was ready to relive.

Next time…

“By the way,” he said with fake disinterest, “What does he do for work? You met him at a photoshoot or something, right?”

“He works for a fairly large company,” Yuuri cut in, looking to Viktor for assurance. Phichit guessed that his friend had stopped ruminating over the fact that he'd been left out concerning news of a second date.

The last time that had happened, Yuuri had taken the liberty of telling Phichit to refuse any further dates with that person, stating that the man was too pushy. Viktor had been pushy in the beginning as well and Phichit always brought it up, but the previous guy had given Yuuri bad vibes. In hindsight, there had been plenty of warning signs to refuse him from the start, but Phichit had been too desperate for attention. Now, he was more careful.

“I think he’s a photographer,” Phichit offered, “During our first date, I asked him what he does, and he only said he works with Viktor.”

He received two stares, and then Viktor and Yuuri looked to one another, perplexed.

“He’s definitely not a photographer,” Viktor said slowly, “For certain, I know that he does office work at a big company. I forgot the name of it, but they focus on beauty products. He came to the shoot I was doing because the spread was for their new line.”

At that moment, the waitress came over with their orders. Phichit stared hungrily at his steaming burger. He popped a fry in his mouth, reveling in the crispiness, and offered his plate to Yuuri and Viktor who were sharing pasta.

“Beauty. That’s strange since he seems to be…not in tune with stuff like that. He didn’t even know what suit designer he was wearing,” Phichit said, utterly confused.

Viktor chuckled and pushed more pasta onto Yuuri’s plate, glancing at him with that ‘eat more’ look. Nobody talked better with their eyes than Viktor.

“Sounds like him. He didn’t know much about his own products either and was there mostly to learn and make sure that things were running smoothly. He’s very business attuned. At first, I thought he was an assistant.”

“Okay, so it’s not just me,” Phichit said and took out his phone, opening the window of texts from Seung-gil. He held the device up so that both Viktor and Yuuri could see. “His texts are so formal, like him. Business-like. With a vest and tie and shiny shoes.”

"Don't compare them to your own texts. Unlike him, you’re just too lazy to use capital letters and punctuation,” Yuuri teased.

Phichit was glad that Yuuri’s mood had lifted, but he hated when his best friend poked at his habits. Okay, not hated, but Yuuri knew him far too well. That was what happened when you spent so many years together.

“I’m not lazy! I just don’t see a need when the message is faster and clearer. Friendlier, too. He sounds so distant. And in person, it’s even worse. Everything is one word and nods and no facial expressions. He’s like this!”

Phichit sat back in his seat, folded his hands on the table, and let his face fall flat. Completely void of any emotions. He gave a shrug, mirroring Seung-gil’s mannerism, and quietly said ‘no, yes, not really’ in pure imitation of the man he’d seen three times too many in one week.

Yuuri bumped arms with him and chided him for being too mean, but Phichit countered that there was nothing mean about it.

“You’d get along great with him because you’d never have to worry about talking. He’s a killer of conversation,” he moped.

“H-hey!”

Phichit smirked and focused on his burger. He lifted it to his mouth and took as big a bite as possible. He’d been talking too much at this point. Rambling was okay, but now he felt that he was attacking Seung-gil. Poor guy didn’t deserve it, not really. Maybe Yuuri was right.

“He’s definitely not a talker, but did he make you feel uncomfortable?” Yuuri asked, concern returning.

Phichit shook his head.

“Did he tell you anything weird? Did he act too desperate or strange or obsessive?”

More shaking of his head. Yuuri was testing to see if Seung-gil was just another stalker that Phichit might have to hide from for a while. Yuuri would feel bad because he’d been the one to set up the blind date.

Phichit still wasn’t sure if he could forgive Yuuri for giving his number away. Yes, Yuuri had a hand in hooking him up with a potential boyfriend, but that didn’t mean all was well with handing out numbers. Phichit could only wonder what else Yuuri had shared with Seung-gil.

He nibbled on the end of one fry and soon, the piece was crushed in his hands and mouth. He set it back down on his plate, his appetite draining. Maybe overeating last night and this morning was too much and his body was fighting back.

“I’m just frustrated, I guess,” he confessed. “I can’t tell what he wants or why he wants to keep seeing me when he doesn’t even say anything. Am I that interesting, or is he just bored and wants to pass the time?” He forced himself to take another bite of his burger, the flavors exploding in his mouth and giving him a small ray of happiness.

“He doesn’t seem like the type to do something ‘for fun,’” Viktor assured, “I even asked him about his hobbies and he just shrugged and said he was too busy for recreational activities.”

“Did he say it like that? Recreational activities?” Phichit cut in.

“Yes.”

“Who says that? Who actually uses those words?”

Yuuri laughed and bumped shoulders with him again. “You're such a bully!”

“I’m not! I told you, the way he talks is so formal and uncommon. I feel like a pleb.”

It was Phichit’s turn to scrunch his brows together. Seung-gil’s way of communicating would never be something he could ignore or get used to, and it was the number one thing he could pick at.

“Rest assured, he is not going to hurt you," Viktor continued, "If something doesn’t interest him, he doesn’t pay it any attention. Like makeup and hair styling spray. I still remember the look on his face when the director of the shoot was explaining how the products would be used. I’ve never seen someone so nonchalant about his own business.”

“Exactly! See! I’m not making it up!” Phichit exclaimed and looked at Yuuri, “I told you, I’ve never met someone so bored with nothing. He’s so…nothing about nothing. I think he’s even bored with boredom!”

Yuuri laughed at that and stole a fry from his plate.

“Yet, you’re so invested in him,” Yuuri mused with false innocence.

 “No,” he said flatly and grabbed a handful of cold fries, shoving them all into his mouth. He could barely chew around them, but he would live with this choice. He half-expected to choke and end this conversation prematurely.

“You definitely sound more interested in him than you usually do about other men,” Viktor said neutrally.

Yuuri’s eyes brightened and he took Viktor’s hand this time. They exchanged a look filled with sincere adoration, but Phichit shot a glare at his friend. It had been a while since he was the one fighting for his dignity.

“You talk about him constantly, you had two dates with him on top of giving him a massage—” Yuuri continued.

“Oh, wow. That’s hot.”

“—And! Here we are, having lunch and discussing him like you have a crush on him or something.”

Yuuri tilted his head to the side, a mischievous look on his face. It was rare but well-practiced, almost as good as his own.

Phichit rushed with chewing and swallowing and he made a face at Yuuri, wanting to throw food at him.

“I don’t have a crush! I’m not twelve! And no, the massage wasn’t hot, Viktor. He was fully clothed and it lasted less than 30 minutes!”

“But,” Viktor paused for several seconds, expression serious as he leaned in to whisper, “Did you want him naked?”

Phichit hesitated in answering and tripped over several words before blurting a weak, “No.”

He grumbled as Viktor and Yuuri simultaneously laughed, a bit too loudly, at his weak reply.

“Phichit, it’s okay to have a crush,” Yuuri said reassuringly, “When was the last time you felt like this about someone?”

_“I don’t have a crush!”_

Yuuri shushed him quickly in the middle of laughing louder and looking around apologetically at the people in the restaurant that had turned to stare. They were only a group of three, yet were able to create so much noise.

If Phichit were in a better mood, he’d continue with some ridiculous comments, but he wanted nothing more than to crawl under the table and nurse the regret from requesting to have lunch with these two.

“I don’t even know how to feel,” he groaned, “He’s not even my type but I keep saying yes to seeing him again. He’s boring but it’s so interesting. Not in a ‘mystery man’ kind of way, but in a ‘what do you tell yourself in the morning so that you feel okay facing another day’ kind of way.”

“You’re curious about him, which is perfectly normal. Most people were curious about him at the shoot. He’s unusual, and it’s not bad,” Viktor offered gently. His face was a bit red from laughing so much.

Phichit remembered when that happy flush was all Yuuri would ever talk about, back when he had a major crush on the photographer. That had been fun to use as teasing fodder, but now he could see that it really was cute. Adorable.

Seung-gil had had that same type of flush last night, spreading all across his face and even reaching the lobes of his ears, though Phichit couldn’t decipher what the meaning was behind it. He couldn’t even remember when it had appeared, but it was cute.

Shit.

He shoved a single fry into his mouth.

“You really are thinking about him a lot,” Yuuri said in a kinder, understanding tone. “It’s great! I’m honestly glad that you can think of someone like this. There’s hope!”

“Hope for…?”

“Having a boyfriend!”

Phichit let those words linger in the air for a while as he sorted through his thoughts. Dating Seung-gil, long-term. Dating Seung-gil and seeing him often, sending messages to him back and forth so casually throughout the day. Boyfriends. Getting picked up in that car and going to nice places for dinner or drinks. Seeing him in those suits. Holding his hand and caressing it the way Yuuri and Viktor did with each other. Making googly eyes. Giving him massages. Naked.

Shit.

He let his head fall to the table with a thump and said nothing as Yuuri soothingly patted his hair.

“Are you planning on seeing him again?” his friend asked quietly, the mirth from earlier drained away. The concern was back.

Phichit nodded and turned his head to look at Yuuri, his forehead still resting beside the remainder of his burger.

“He said he wants to go out again. Next weekend,” he whispered, afraid that if he said it too loudly there’d be too much of that sweet yet fragile hope in his voice.

“I hope you said yes.”

A smile lit up Phichit’s face when he recalled his simple text the previous night.

“I said ‘k.’”

Phichit laughed loudly when Yuuri began to gripe about his style of texting. Slowly, he sat up and reached for his friend’s hand, squeezing it in silent thanks. Regardless of the jokes and teasing, he could always count on Yuuri for that much needed support.

“I just hope he doesn’t show up in another suit,” Phichit said with a sigh, “I plan on eating more greasy food with him. He doesn’t seem to mind it, but he’s so out of place. And it looks like he’s a sugar daddy or something since I’m visibly broke.”

“Oh god,” Yuuri sighed, for a different reason, and returned to finishing his meal.

Phichit decided he was done with his burger and picked up one last fry to nibble on.

“Should I text him? Or…is that too desperate?” he asked, searching for advice.

He was staring at the table as he spoke, afraid that if he looked up, Yuuri would be staring, studying him. Maybe Yuuri would laugh at him because he was falling so quickly. Phichit was chained at the ankle to the definition of 'bored and not searching for joy,' and he was being yanked around by listless shrugs and a voice teeming with lethargy.

“He’s a busy guy, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind hearing from you,” Viktor commented, "Especially since he already said he's interested in meeting again. Asking for a third date basically means that he's attracted to you."

"Give it a day or two, at least," Yuuri chimed in.

Phichit nodded at that. He mulled the idea over and slowly, a smile crept onto his face. He leaned in close to Yuuri, chin in hand.

“K.”


End file.
